Posts Tagged ‘being wrong’

for Mabeth

I assumed at its root, it was speaking of time,
related to tempo and temporary,
assumed it was speaking also of place,
as in plateau and plat and platform.
In fact, I had quite convinced myself
the word contemplative was an invitation
to be one with place and time.
I was wrong. It’s related to temple,
which comes from a root for “to cut,”
as in a place cut off or reserved
to be occupied by the divine.
Of course, the divine’s at the center
instead of time.
Oh, this desire to make meaning—
this longing to find the story
that will help me make sense of the world.
The mind will use any trick it can
to think it has a handhold in the mystery.
Meanwhile it leads me astray.
It’s like discovering the map I’ve been using
is the wrong map for the city I’m in.
And now that I have the right map,
one with a temple at the heart of it,
I can begin again.

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Today yet another chance to notice

how often I am wrong. How easily


my voice puts on its business suit

and power pumps and exudes confidence—


how sure I am that I am right! And then,

when confronted with the real truth, what to do


but laugh at the self who just moments ago

was strutting and certain and bold.


What a relief to kick off the shoes

and let the self run barefoot through the afternoon,


ditching her dress, letting the world

laugh at her, holes in her stockings,


holes in her conviction, shoulders

bare and exposed. Feel how the breeze


rushes in through the open door,

carries with it the song of red-wing blackbirds,


touches everything like relief, like

a song about journeys, like forgiveness.

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