The Real Deal
There's something in me
that won't give up, that
struggles to stay open and
not just shrug or go numb.
Lord knows, there are a
raft of reasons to pull the
covers over my head,
refuse to get out of bed,
worship at the shrine of
cynical despair. Call it
what you will — the still,
small voice, the light
within, Spirit, life force,
All That Is — no name,
every name, the outcome
is the same. There's
something in me that
just won't roll over and
play dead despite the tall
odds stacked against it.
I mean, if we were playing
Charades, what could I say?
"Sounds like — pain."
"Sounds like — First you
struggle, then you die."
I can't dispute the truth
that life is hard, and certainly
not smooth. And yet, and
still, and once again, I try.
I reach inside and find a
moment of wonder, the
urge to love, the truth that
we're all walking in the
same direction. If I can
write a poem, cook a meal,
plant a few seeds, if I can leave
the world a better place today
for having lived, isn't that
enough? Yeah, I know. I
want proof, too, or lacking
that, at least a dramatic
scene where I'm swept
away by a tidal wave of
bliss, never to suffer again.
The real deal is the choice
to stay awake in the face
of what is actually happening.
It's the unbearable truth that
I and you and all of us are
learning to be human at the
same time that we're divine.
Perfect imperfection. Trial
and error. The universe's
grand experiment. Each one
of us is no less important to
the outcome than the Big Bang.
I've got my role to play even
if I can't articulate exactly
what it is. All I can do is
say yes to what is mine to
do. Say yes and take a single
step, casting my vote for life
and not a living death.
— Danna Faulds
From One Soul: More Poems
From the Heart Of Yoga
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