We'll start with the thought today. I think so many of us think in terms of either/or when it comes to reality. During my meditation today, I realized that I think of writers as ascetics or hermits that remove themselves from the world and only emerge to present their new masterpiece. I have avoided becoming a writer because subconsciously I thought it would mean giving up my social life. What a limiting reality! Why not be a writer and a social butterfly? I think so many times we limit what is possible for ourselves with either/or thinking. Ok, now for the poem.
Desire plagues me, goads me.
I'm overstimulated and stretched too thin.
The plethora of people and faces...
For a second I lose myself
For an instant the foundation shakes
Then a familiar anchor emerges.
Under translucent green leaves I find myself.
Grounded to the trunk that predates me,
Sheltered by a roof that will outlast me,
I find serenity in my center,
I am returned to who I am.
I can walk again in the world,
Assured of my niche as me.
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