Words, poetry, and the universe are all part of an unfolding.
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open hearts hear the
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whispers of the Universe,
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and words…..write themselves….
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i’m in awe… of words,
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and the constant miracle
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of our poetry!
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Today, as I walked back to my humble abode, I noticed a squirrel on the sidewalk ahead of me. Squirrels are plentiful around the neighbourhood and I enjoy playing games with them. I know a simple man is taken by simple pleasures. Usually, the squirrel hides or tries to hide. I softly say, “I see you” and it scampers further up the tree.
This time I saw something different. A cyclist came along. The squirrel waited purposely for the cyclist to draw even and then it scurried up the walk in a straight line. The cyclist cast a sideward glance much like Usain Bolt might in a 100 metre race. Suddenly, it veered off in the middle of the race presumably drawn to some other target.
I am reminded of the Buddhist concept of ‘monkey mind’ where we cannot hold a thought and flit from one task to the next. Perhaps, in Spokane or Edmonton, I call the same concept ‘squirrel mind’. When I hold my thoughts in this moment, attend to them one at a time, the reward is real. When I flit from place to place, I might finish the task at hand but it seems a more hollow victory.
Locked into imaginary blocks,
Poised at the start line,
He waited.
The race was engaged,
The cyclist broke the imaginary sensor
They were off.
The rider glanced over,
Suddenly, her opponent veered off course
Defaulted the task at hand.
After all, what is more important to a squirrel>
The promise of food?
Or fleeting fame?
To the winner, no time to celebrate
It is a hollow victory
Won by default.
