In this space.
With nothing more.
Noticing the incessant voice.
That calls otherwise.
Noticing and being OK with what is.
This is the practice.
Waking to a call from somewhere that feels outside of myself.
Yet deep inside I am called from within.
I am called home.
To do my work.
To work for those who cannot.
To give voice to those who are silenced.
To create and express that which cannot be heard.
To free myself, and others, from being trapped.
On dark days.
Gray skies linger.
I celebrate and salute the sun.
Especially when her rays are not able to kiss my skin.
Yet here I am.
No mud, no lotus.