I am a tryer                                                   
and a cryer

a seeker who sought

                             to know his own heart true

to heal his heart

         which he always felt 

                                           was on the verge of breaking

of giving up                                     of hardening…

…and the tears of his own making

                                         ran and fell along the path he was on…

flowed so fully that it felt as though a river of pain was possible 

or was forming and frothing and churning ever more wickedly…

…the closer to his heart he got…

the more turbulence he experienced…

There were no seatbelts to be fastened.

and still he sought and tried                                    he thrashed and was bashed

as he tried to keep breathing…    

…to get his “bearings,” he kept breathing

…to “settle down,” he kept breathing

…to “clear his mind,” he kept breathing

To be still breathing…he practiced being still…in his breathing—with his breath

And he recognized breathing, eventually, for the teacher it had been and still is.

One response

  1. Breathing … with my breath … is such a fundamentally simple way of ‘me’ connecting with ‘me’ in the moment, yet it is something that I so often overlook. Repeatedly.
    I, for one, have this particular lesson on a permanent ‘repeat’ … I think the phrase is ‘cyclical learning’ …

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Disclaimer: Poetic license is at work both here and in my books. Any errors or anomalies are through no fault of my editor. These were left deliberately at my expressed intention to clearly indicate that goodness does not require perfection.

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