The words won’t come
What am I waiting for?
What am I resisting?
If answers were easy
We’d skip through life
But the potholes stop us
Pot holes, rabbit holes
Something linked to the past
That keeps us tied
Conditioning by others
There is no right answer
No guarantee of success
Just peace in the now.
I being drawn to not doing. As if this is the time to breath.
Accept that reading a book is a legitimate way to spend my time. Pull weeds. Sit on the old tree stump and feel myself flowing into the earth. It it enough?
Maybe, just maybe, yes! I don’t have to earn my worth.
Ahhh…. love this, my frieng.
I ask myself the same question, Barb. Not as eloquently as you. While the world, and especially our country, are falling apart, it’s hard for me to pause and be in the moment. Or allow myself time to read. But I’m learning to do that.
I wondered this morning if you’d be writing soon. And bazinga!!! You have. So we are on the same page. I am finding peace by being present even with the various situations publicized. I’m reading about trees and my book states your stump is alive and nurtures the trees around it with its enormous roots. The unseen is the magic and the majesty. 💕