WORDS LIKE LIGHT 

Thursday, August 12, 2021

EMPTY (v.)

         I have spent most of my life gathering and hoarding, and now, at 79, it’s time to start emptying. I don’t mean this in a negative way, as if I want to start sadly giving things away because I’m getting closer to death. No, I’m thinking of emptying as a creative and liberating process, an opening-out to the boundless realms of the universe. Instead of always grabbing, I want to start giving, the way rivers give themselves to the seas.  I want to unload my longings and cravings, and feel the freedom of flowing instead of the captivity of clasping. I want to be a breeze that joyfully empties all of itself, moment by moment, into the infinite wind. 

GIVING GIFTS
 
One day,
a certain man was ready to give gifts.
First, he gave the fountain of his love
to a lonely-looking person
shopping among melons at a market.
Next, he gave some thoughts
that sounded like a song
to a little part of the sky
that seemed to shine in a thorough and thoughtful way,
the way he liked to live,
though his life often fell off cliffs of mindlessness,
which is mostly why
he decided to do some giving on this day,
just donating what he always has,
which is endless and bountiful,
as gifts to be found by the universe
as it floats and falls and rises, 
with him, forever.