I have a very long way to go.
But in the silences, I have been getting somewhere.

I am coming into my mind, instead of losing it.
Day by day, I show up, though it's not always readily viewable to others.
I see it, and what I see matters.
There is action here.

I can't always be exactly in my body.
There are still wars waged within a day, hour or even a single second.

The choice to keep going is constant.
Am I going to survive this?

I ask myself questions, and then watch.
Waitfully.

Patience, like a stem.
My life sometimes resting in other places...
In the root, or other times, the bud.

But growing, growing, growing all the time.

So much coming and going.

Me, still, always staying.

Staying, and staying, showing up.
Grooming the bloom.

My vision becoming stronger, and more sure.
Looking up. Visiting this world, and the worlds of others.

I catch myself in the wanderment.

I can't let myself be horrified by where I've been.
What I've lived, or put myself through...
The gains, the losses.

Grief.

I've done some things right.
Some wrong.
Mostly, though, I've just done.
Meaning, I've gotten here.
And here is enough.

Here is my best.

It was always my best.
All of it is my best.

I won't hate myself anymore, even if what I did then is not what I would do now.
Now, I know better than to judge, to be my worst critic, to rake myself over coals for things I couldn't have possibly known in advance.

Grace is not a hand-me-down. It's an adventure to be lived, like Love.

Do not mistake quietness for staleness.
I am actively concentrated on presence.
To find my soul serene...