You do not have to earn your keep
by cleaning the house and making the meals
and penning witty e-mails to keep everyone entertained
while feeding yourself a steady diet of shitty television.
You do not have to earn your keep.
You do not have to earn your keep.
You do not have to earn your keep.
The gift is the breath, is being alive, is standing at the shores of yourself
and plunging further in than ever before.
It’s not dramatic at first glance but it IS
a matter of life and death.
You’re alive, so act like it.
Watch the dogs and roll around with them.
Follow small children and let them teach you.
Gather treasures while you move through the streets.
Leave them behind for others to find.
Put down your striving and your need to be always, always working harder.
Put down your productivity.
Stop holding your ‘special’ nature up as a reason for avoiding connection.
Stop being afraid. People can hurt you, of course,
but they’re also the only ones who can love you to life.
You cannot survive without them. (You’ve tried.)
Stop breathing from your chest.
Sink in, let the oxygen run deep and wild within you.
Let the whole of your swift, soft body move each day,
and let that delight be something you refuse to track or monitor
for the sake of progress.
In fact: stop thinking of all this living as progress.
This moment simply is.
There is no mountain worth climbing if you refuse to pay attention during the ascent.
There is no meadow worth lying in if you count time spent there against your life’s value and achievements.
Rest and relax and laugh. And then.
Let the work you do be a manifestation of who you are; let it sink softly
to the bottom of the lake, knowing it will transform into something much more interesting
in the dark, unknowable night.
P.S. Of course we deserve it.
