I find contentment to be a hard teaching.
Am I to be…
grateful for my sorrows?
Do I count among my blessings…
that a friend paints a picture of a poem and feels unworthy of being
who she deeply knows herself to be?
Should I dig up the fear that I keep buried in my back yard?
(I have long had a fear that I will come at last to the end and have nothing to say.
… or no one left to listen.)
I write down what it takes to make me happy knowing that I’d be happier if I didn’t.
Have you noticed how existence comes in and out of being?
How everything that exists in this moment no longer does?
Have you noticed how this moment dies as it is being born?
No sorrow without caring.
No joy without caring.
Twins born of love.
One forever becoming the other.
This post was inspired by Hilary and Isabelle over at bitchinyoga.
The yoga practice of contentment is known as santosa.