is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few years
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.
I am falling in love
with my imperfections
The way I never get the sink really clean,
forget to check my oil,
lose my car in parking lots,
miss appointments I have written down,
am just a little late.
I am learning to love
the small bumps on my face
the big bump of my nose,
my hairless scalp,
chipped nail polish,
toes that overlap.
Learning to love
the open-ended mystery
of not knowing why
I am learning to fail
to make lists,
use my time wisely,
read the books I should.
Instead I practice inconsistency,
irrationality, forgetfulness.
Probably I should
hang my clothes neatly in the closet
all the shirts together, then the pants,
send Christmas cards, or better yet
a letter telling of
my perfect family.
But I'd rather waste time
listening to the rain,
or lying underneath my cat
learning to purr.
I used to fill every moment
with something I could
cross off later.
Perfect was
the laundry done and folded
all my papers graded
the whole truth and nothing but
Now the empty mind is what I seek
the formless shape
the strange off center
sometimes fictional
----elizabeth carlson (thanks to inward/outward)
Time is neutral. It can be used either destructively or constructively. I am coming to feel that the people of ill will have used time much more effectively than the people of good will. We will have to repent in this generation not merely for the vitriolic words and actions of the bad people, but for the appalling silence of the good people.
---- Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.; Letter From Birmingham Jail (April 16, 1963)