Poem – return to the middle

Return to the end of a
really cool video about
energy and intimacy
with God
in the middle
east or class or way.

God is the middle of something, maybe the night.

Right click on my own needs
and I am sure
that I was in college
where we were working on a project
to become.
Become what?
Doctors? Teachers? Lawyers?
Or just become.

Do they teach classes on that?

Maybe I’m in the middle.
Maybe that is the place to be.
Neither then or when
but here and now.

Waiting in the middle

I’m back in the waiting room at the VW dealership. I’m waiting until they get the time to work on the car. I wonder why I even make appointments, because they always seem to be delayed. Back again for a valve. Last week it was gaskets. A month ago it was the battery. The car is old, after all.

I’m reminded of the Jewish prayer for use in the bathroom, about openings and cavities, that if just one of them ruptured or were blocked, we’d die.

I’m grateful it isn’t one of my openings or cavities that is ruptured of blocked. That would require a trip to the hospital, and surgery, and a long recovery period.

I’m grateful that the dealership is just 20 minutes away and not an hour, like the lady next to me.

I think there is something about being grateful that is good, but also something about acknowledging the pain and loss. This is my day off. This is really early in the morning. I don’t quite want to spend the money on this. We’ve spent too much money recently on this car.

So maybe the answer is somewhere in the middle. Not happy, not sad. It just is the way it is. Not forcing myself to be happy and grateful, not getting stuck in sadness and loss. It is, and being happy or upset won’t make it change or go faster or cost less.

Maybe this is what Buddha meant about non attachment.

Not wasting energy on transforming the situation into something it isn’t. Accept it for what it is, and understanding that what I know is limited. The middle way, of no extremes.

Poem – cut loose

This is a day of culling.
This is a day of cutting loose
and letting go.

No longer time to sow
or reap.

There is no harvest here.
Not yet.

This is a time to prune,
to trim,
to weed.

But not gently.

This is a time of slash and burn,
of cut and run.

This is a time of throwing off the rope
and sailing away.
No map, no rudder, no charts.

Just go.

Like a laser
Like a diamond
Like a scalpel

Cut loose.

No time for maybe
or might have been.

Cut loose.

This is the day not for new beginnings
or happy endings
but something in the middle.

We aren’t used to middles.
We are uncomfortable with
not being
or there.

But that is where we are.
The grey time
the afternoon place
the doldrums,

Better accept it.
The sooner the better.

Cut bait now
with a sharp knife and paddle on over
to another spot
that line is holding you down.

No matter if the biggest fish
you ever saw is about to grab hold.
No matter.

He hasn’t yet
and if he does now
he’ll just pull you under
or drag you along
to your death.

Cut loose
and live.