Mindful. Mindfulness.
This very practice is supposed to ground us, so does it? Do words really bring us hope, or do we just…hope that they will?
And howe do we show up to the questions at all?
Are we mindful, really? Or do we perform even our mindfulness, making it a routine we practice for the likes and the applause? Can we separate out the ego from the true presence, the writer from the human being, the curator from the grown up child? Sometimes it feels like too much to be mindful of mindfulness itself, but we have to to protect it from the facades we hold, so that we can show up fully alive.
'Mind how you go'
Grandpa would say as I left the house
His way of telling me to be careful
to watch where you step
to pay attention to what's around
Mind how you go -
fill your mind
with the moment
see the sights
hear the sounds
smell the scents
don't let your mind
be so full of other things
that you miss
this one precious moment
Mind how you go
mind full
of what
is a question
worth asking
.
if it is
already full
where do we
integrate
emerging
wisdom
begging
a home
of us?
.