I worked to build the perfect house around me,
with big bay windows facing the sunrise.
Every detail was just so.
I knew just when to move,
just where to go.
Everything went according to plan,
for a while.
But it was fragile.
The wind blew a tree down
and my bay windows shattered.
The coffee maker broke,
there was construction on the highway,
things were delayed.
And nothing,
I mean nothing,
went according to plan.
I built my house on the fragile foundation
of how it “should be.”
Of course it crumbled.
Until I had a moment
(I’m sure it was a quiet moment, alone)
when I remembered
to build my house on the inside first.
To be with what is.
To connect to the moment.
To focus on what I can do,
instead of what is not as it “should be”
Here’s the thing: that story has been my story again and again.
I remember (I know) that my inner world, my way of being, generates my outer world. And I spend time building up my inner world. I journal. I meditate. I pray. I strengthen my connection to that quiet voice inside until we have a dedicated line to each other. And things get better. Wonderful really.
Then I forget. I stop practicing.
My life is going so well! Why not make it perfect? So I try to control all of my circumstances, create a fragile sort of utopia, for a while, and then things inevitably break down and I break down with them. Because I lost that inner connection. And now there’s no foundation.
Then I remember.
And it starts again.
I don’t want to forget this time. So I’m writing about it; about what works, what brings me joy and connection. What keeps me here to experience the time that I have. Thanks for reading.
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