The Grass is the Same Shade of Green on the Other Side

I have recently acknowledged that for perhaps the first time (at least in my adult life) I am completely content with where I am in life.  That is not to say that I do not strive for continual growth and betterment, nor does it mean that my life is ‘perfect’.  Rather, it means that I am satisfied with where I am and feel confident that I am moving in the right direction.  It seems simple enough, but for most people, myself included, this state of ‘being’ is quite elusive.  It is the old ‘grass is greener on the other side’ trap.  This feeling of out there being better than right here can easily permeate every facet of ones life.  For many years this illusion weighed heavily on me.  I spent much of my life obsessed with goal-oriented achievements, constantly striving for the next level, feeling sure that once I reached the goal it would unlock some hidden wonder of life… namely happiness… you know, the one everyone else seems to experience.  Well, when one goal didn’t bring with it the anticipated glory, surely it would be found at the completion of the next goal... And so it went….  Well, I have no intention of changing this goal-oriented behavior, but I do have the intention of being in the moment each step toward each goal…  Knowing that nothing but it’s completion lay waiting at the other side.  The other side is exactly the same as this one….  The trick is to be content in spite of your place on the cycle.  There is no outrunning that which is circular, simply stand still… and be.

Fallen Angel

Interlacing fingers

Folded

Head bowed

She’d pray for the secrecy of thoughts spoke too loud

But these secrets, they pressed themselves to her face like a shroud

And her hands again clasped

Nightly the tears would follow

With whispers to ears

Perched in the visible hollow

Listening and lilting

Under the heavy burdens lain

Sharing each pursuit of undressing the shame

And tomorrow she will sing again

In volume-less repetitive phrase

That the knife laid upon her would not cut but only graze