Watching the leaves fall from my son's bedroom
where I've relocated to ride out the virus
that finally got me in its clutches,
imagining how absurd it would be
if each leaf, as it tumbled between limb and landing,
wondered if it could be tumbling better,
if each raindrop, hurtling from cloud to puddle,
fretted about its size and shape,
if each bird, fluttering between nest and seed,
felt preoccupied with the placement
of that most recent twig, the length of the twine.
No, it is only we humans who worry ourselves
sometimes to death, with such details,
forgetting that perfection
is the ultimate paradox – both ever-present
and non-existent.
We can either live in a prison
of our own making – nothing quite right,
nothing just as we would have it be,
evidence of our asymmetries
and funny failings
everywhere.
Or we can embrace the absurdity,
the absolute wildly beautiful freedom
of this predicament, egging us on every day:
let go like the leaf, fall like the rain,
create a home like a little bird,
feed yourself, find your places
in this vast world full of microcosms,
do it all with love, with abandon,
with care and intention,
with your whole heart,
and when your whole heart
says it's too hard, too much,
then rest. Let the seasons
do the heavy lifting for a while,
until you are, once again, ready
to be a leaf, a raindrop, the most beautiful
feathered thing.
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Perfect reminder! Hope you are recovering quickly.
Beautiful, Jena. Lifted my heart today. Thank you.