The instruction to
just be myself
resulted
in a pretty
meandering
to-and-fro
up-over-and-down
there and back again
maybe, but maybe not,
should I educate
myself better
or get a few more
life skills first
type of thing
until one
day when I
was brushing
my teeth
I came to a scrunchy halt,
arm cocked like a frozen piston,
and I looked into the silvered plate
hung on the wall, the one
framed by garishly bright lamps
poised to illuminate
the Self with unflinching malice,
and I looked back at my Self,
and into me,
through the
paste bubbles,
dribbles and chalky rivulets,
and out the other side,
and I saw that
more than anything
I could ever be or do
or have
in this world,
I desired to be
part of something
Beautiful, True and
Everlasting,
something involving
Everyone.
I had to resist
a sudden need to
hunch over as
my upper body
spasmed in the attempt
to laugh and cry
all at the same time,
oblivious of the fact
that my mouth was full
of minty suds and a grooming implement
I could choke on
if I wasn’t careful.
It’s like being a river, I thought,
staring into those eyes,
like being one true tear
with Everything in it
that finds its way to the sea,
like being a leopard on the horizon
at dusk, framed by the rising moon.
I would have kept going– (maybe)–
but luckily this other part of me
spoke up that day,
that crazy one
you love to death
but try and hold in reserve,
who frankly
you need to speak up
sometimes, like
when you’re consumed
with trying to just be Love
in the face of a gale force wind
bearing barbecue grills,
gazebo roofs, garden sheds
and small cars.
He says:
Like a human being, maybe,
you trippy idiot?
Yeah, I thought,
my forearm still cocked
and locked
in position to buff a molar
and suddenly wanting
to scrub the smile
right off that smart alec’s face.
Like that.
Once you get
over that hurdle
of wanting to spontaneously
become a moonlit leopard
or a jujitsu master
that doesn’t need to eat food,
it gets a little
more straightforward.
Like, for example,
next day I was minding
my own business
reading poems
by the river
when Hafiz shows up,
says gently,
you could try
writing one, too,
you know…
