Devoted

“Attention is the beginning of devotion.” —Mary Oliver

I am devoted to the Ocean, but there was a time, not long ago, that my attention to her (and me) waned.

Eventually I became ill.

Eventually Death inched closer. Then closer.

I didn’t want to die inland, so, barely breathing, heart stuck on Rapid, I drove to the Sea.

Eventually Death inched away. I could sense him, but his embrace loosened.

I listened and attended to the patient, resilient, miraculous Bod, and became devoted to her as well. Eventually.

Healing isn’t linear. For me it seems to be a nautilus shell of reminders. Remember when meditation worked? Let’s try that again, as well as people-free days. Also, watch the electrolyte balance, babe, and consider a cooler climate.

Yesterday I noticed how badly I wanted to correct the woman who wrote the wrong date on the rent receipt. She must know that I paid on time! She must know that she is wrong! And I flashed back to certain relatives. “I’ve got documentation!” one of them yelled, claws in the air. He so badly needed to be right.

We learn these things from other humans, but the Moon doesn’t care if we’re right or wrong, nor does the Ocean.

I am practicing a different way of being. I don’t want to perpetuate hate. Here’s an excerpt of a poem from Dance First …ask questions later: poems & paintings: