the courtesy of presence.

 

it’s all in my head. time, experience, judgement. one impression to the next and one field of emotion to the other. static sparks intersecting at a continuum so achingly swift, so formidably dull.

I collapse on my bed unable to stop my thoughts. I see the noise of the day, the hassle, the interruptions of my peace. I stir for hours and even when I do fall asleep, it is unconscious, tiring, unfiltering. the time that was yesterday is not very different from the time that is now. it’s still all here somehow.

I just hate it when this happens— when there’s so much to break free from in brokenness. I wonder if the problem is me, or the noise, or the busyness of my day, or the never ending to-do list that seems to need tedious polishing all the time. I do not seek perfection in my life, and I still wonder where all this comes from. I wonder why my head just never stops drifting to the temporariness.

but I’m taking a deep breath now. it’s courtesy I’m inhaling. the courtesy of revering the timelessness of being here, although I know deep inside that this courtesy is only cultivated after the humility of brokenness. falling apart. helplessness and surrender to the divine.

I feel the weight of being human all the time. the weight of being too involved, too preoccupied and too blinded by feeling in control. I’ve had more of that lately in my life— this kind of blindness which aches my heart.

I long for the courtesy of presence. of touching the intimacy of life with my fingertips. the feathery footsteps on beautiful paths. the solemn, silent gaze of a loved one. the poetry of my soul enlivening the world..

the poetry of everything being everything and nothing being nothing, and both.