It takes longer than usual
to reach the place
where there is just
movement,
birdsong,
and spring sunshine.
The calm beneath
the crisis
is here,
waiting.
It takes longer than usual
to reach the place
where there is just
movement,
birdsong,
and spring sunshine.
The calm beneath
the crisis
is here,
waiting.
The evening light fades
without effort
Yet I must practice daily
doing
without doing.
‘I think’
said the monkey mind
‘that I think too much’.
And she scampers off busily
up thought trees tangled
with stories.
Narratives twisting towards the light
thrusting up strange blooms,
every shade of the emotional rainbow.
Curious to know more,
the monkey scampers on.
Always restless,
the voice chattering away
in the jungle of my mind.
Does that monkey ever sleep?