A Poet's Journal: February 20th, 2015

 

February 20th, 2015

How much of our day is determined by the first few moments after we wake?  And how much have we already decided of ourselves when we are ready to step out from our place of rest?  There is some importance in asking this.  We like to believe that the place of rest holds some physical comfort that we can come back to in time, remaining unchanged, because we ourselves have spent the day going from one thing to another.  But there is always this underlying fixation that what is far from us is truly the thing that will bring us the most support.  The moment that I find myself confronted with something that I can't get around, whether it be plans, obligations, or simply self-imposed rules, I immediately think to something far away, something I don't have that I want, something that I could use, something that I could read; this is the reward for the effort. There is never really enough time for us to be a part of these things, we only use them to get something else, to get back to our place of rest; such is the attachment and friction of our lives.  This place of rest then, this place from which we start our day, this place from which we become conscious of everything, where is it really?  Perhaps we don't need anything to help us get there.

Douglas Thornton