Standing Here

A Quiet Moment of Becoming

It is not necessary
to travel to faraway places to say one has lived,
nor to buy the luscious lapis-blue blouse
beckoning from the Soft Surroundings catalog—
soon to be more clutter, body, mind, and soul.

Such things do not guarantee happiness
any more than the dreams and desires we chase
as we search for something—anything—
to lift our spirits—

to tell us plainly life makes sense.

Sense cannot be made from a perfect haircut
or a mani-pedi—though they both may
offer a deep sigh as warm hands bathe
and caress our tired feet—small kindnesses
that keep us going.

And, if we dare see, invite us into
a practice of letting go, surrender, receiving—
precious moments of allowing, of non-action—
a reminder that joy can be found in the absence of
striving, reaching, grasping—
a fleeting result our only reward.

Joy comes in a morning moment—
a habitual glance out the window as we
carry our coffee to the place
we land and scroll ourselves awake—
but by chance, a glint of gold:

Sunlight dancing
on a bed of dark green pine needles,
on one tiny branch of a too-tall loblolly—
barely a breath,
and quite by accident—a full-body awe,
a quiet reverence, a sudden inhale,
breath held, spellbound.

Joy is the giggle of our two-year-old grandson,
and the video text naming a new love:
“Pop-Pop,” he says with clean clarity,
tiny pointer finger tapping Pop-Pop’s picture—
tears forming in Pop-Pop’s eyes.

The joy of life is captured in gifts unasked for,
moments unexpected,
those not worked or struggled for—
gifts that find us standing open
in innocent repose.

We need not regret what hasn’t been,
nor race to the finish line,
filling blanks and checking boxes.
There is opportunity in every moment
to stand open in trust and patience,
trusting the gifts will arrive—
and among them, the greatest:
those that come from within—
the healing of wounds,
the loosening of anger,
the letting go of regret,
the breathless wonder of awareness.

We were born to live on the edge of becoming,
arms flung wide, hearts and minds open
to all that can be—
to all that we can be.

We were not born to dig our way out of the mud,
but to stand in it—
with acceptance, love, and awe—
and bloom where we are planted.

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Thank you for reading. May a glint of unexpected joy find you today, right where you stand.

For more moments of quiet reflection, you might enjoy The Wisdom Within, A Companion for the Journey — and you’re welcome to subscribe to my Substack newsletter if you’d like to walk this path with me here.”