Passage Twenty-nine: The Wisdom Of Breathing
I have heaped scorn upon my past,
Heaped scorn upon myself.
I have felt the pain of doing so.
I have shrunk and hidden from myself.
I have looked at what was lacking,
And there was no end to it.
I have seen clear through and found
No meaning and no value.
But I have now learned to look
At that ugly way of looking
In a different way.
I have found compassion for it.
There are no tricks.
There are no easy ways,
No shortcuts you can take.
There is accepting that fact
And the liberation of accepting it.
There is allowing yourself time,
Which is like allowing yourself air.
My dogs are driving me insane.
They make me mad, at least.
They act like dogs.
Tramping through the woods
And the field behind our house
At six a.m. in the freezing cold,
Hunting for our beagle, Boris,
Who bolted and who now
Is waking all the neighbors
With his howling,
As he chases something,
I am mad, if not insane.
Should I be feeling differently?
And if I think I should,
What then?
Boris is behaving
Like what he is, and so am I.
I am a fool, and I cannot help it,
But I am other things, at the same time.
Is there wisdom in accepting
What cannot be helped
When there is no other choice?
Yes, there is.
It is the wisdom of breathing
When I can no longer
Hold my breath.
