You can, despite the innocence you were born
with, feel that something is missing, and try to
forget that you are empty, by reading hundred-
year-old novels, or planting dozens of bulbs, or
you can try to fix what you see as broken in others
until they call you kind, or you can look into the
hidden gears of the world until others think you
intelligent, and when nothing reaches you, you
can run into things until old ways crack, or you
can dive into your past till you catch what’s been
eating at your heart, and once seizing it, you can
slowly and painfully bring it up until your fear
unfurls like a flag snapping and when all goes
limp, you might feel some spot of peace that’s
been waiting beneath your name, and then you
can secretly feel the pain of wanting to be touched
by everything, and not being touched feel lost, and
being touched feel found, and not being touched
feel lonely, and being touched feel there might be
such a thing as joy, and then, something like a
quiet thirst might make you climb higher than all
obstacle until, with your arms to the wind, the
features you’ve been known by wear away and,
smelling the fumes of your birth, you might
risk that all thoughts are clouds and burn
them away with the heat of your being.
A Question to Walk With: Describe the relationship between your searching and your being. How does looking for things affect you and how does accepting affect you?
This excerpt is from my book, The Way Under The Way: The Place of True Meeting, 2016 Nautilus Award Winner.
*photo credit: Nina Uhlíková
Ad-Free & Subscriber Log-In