I’ve not looked enough at this stubborn mind
that throws a self like a shadow against any possible wall
that chases after every shiny thing
not seeing its own tawdry glitter spinning in a mirrored disco
that imagines it is the sun and moon
rather than a distorted reflection in some temporary puddle
I’ve not sat enough in the quiet opportunity
and just let myself observe this weather
the changes in the sky and sea
the shriek of the gulls and the howl of the wind
the vast spacious silence
I once disdained my corporeal being,
Viewing it as just an unfortunate shell.
The important me, the real me, was solely my mind.
As I’ve gotten older and perhaps a bit wiser,
I’ve come to appreciate this tangible form.
No mere vehicle to house my essential nature,
But a vital and requisite necessity for identity and action.
The body gives rise to the mind; the mind informs the body.
I no longer despise what it offers, including sensations of pain.
Instead I embrace all I experience, for this constitutes who I am.
And with gratitude, I offer thanks.
