Follow your Bliss, Find your Flow,
Different words, same primordial yearning.
I get up this morning, striving again to find my place in the world,
That place where I will finally give myself.
No life draining sacrifice,
Not trying to be good,
Not trying to please,
That simple nourishing joy,
Born of my nature.
Just as the tree on my street corner reaches out to the world around him,
Between the cracks, through the noise,
Bright above, dark below,
Leaves breathing in excess carbon,
Roots dancing around steel pipes,
Finding joy in giving and receiving,
Shivering blissfully to the wind's caress,
Bowing as the anxious pedestrian passes by,
Effortlessly, undividedly, unexpectantly,
This is who I am, this is what I do.
Perhaps all that striving stands in the way,
This desire to be elsewhere,
Looking for the right conditions to come.
All the perfectly good reasons.
What if I just start doing what I love
What if I just write.
This morning I begin
Let the restless street spirit blow in.
Finding my ground through floors of concrete,
Effortlessly, undividedly, unexpectantly for a few life-giving minutes
That someday might well just grow into hours.
Bliss, Flow, I choose Grace
That beautiful word
That soft embrace
Murmur of the soul
Moment of truth
In the middle of it all
Our urban garden
Ever patiently waiting for us
Life's gift to us, our gift to life
Today I turn to You
I turn to Grace