If life is meditation, writing is my breath.
The focal point, the clarity, the reason I’m alive.
Distractions come like a head full of racing thoughts.
As the world tells me it’s not enough to just breathe.
What should I be doing with my life?
I ponder other career paths I could have pursued.
It’s not too late to go another direction.
Because I should be bigger, better, and reach higher…
But why? I take a deep breath. I remember what’s real to me.
Even as I write this, I wonder, is that sad?
But who is telling me it should be?
I think the word “should” is sad.
It looks like a pouting toddler: “SHOULD!”
And this world will sometimes shout it in a resounding chorus.
“What do you want?” the world asks. “Just figure that out, and pursue it.”
I answer. The world says no, and asks again.
But in my own world, I have peace.
When I focus on my breath, everything is okay.
Everything else is a distraction, but that’s okay too.
I don’t have to fight against it so hard.
I can notice a thought, feel an emotion, let it come, and let it go.
And I can be distracted by pleasant thoughts as well.
There will always be distractions, confusion, and “shoulds.”
But if life is meditation, writing is my breath.
The focal point, the clarity, the reason I’m alive.
Distractions come like a head full of racing thoughts.
As the world tells me it’s not enough to just breathe.
What should I be doing with my life?
I ponder other career paths I could have pursued.
It’s not too late to go another direction.
Because I should be bigger, better, and reach higher…
But why? I take a deep breath. I remember what’s real to me.
Even as I write this, I wonder, is that sad?
But who is telling me it should be?
I think the word “should” is sad.
It looks like a pouting toddler: “SHOULD!”
And this world will sometimes shout it in a resounding chorus.
“What do you want?” the world asks. “Just figure that out, and pursue it.”
I answer. The world says no, and asks again.
But in my own world, I have peace.
When I focus on my breath, everything is okay.
Everything else is a distraction, but that’s okay too.
I don’t have to fight against it so hard.
I can notice a thought, feel an emotion, let it come, and let it go.
And I can be distracted by pleasant thoughts as well.
There will always be distractions, confusion, and “shoulds.”
But if life is meditation, writing is my breath.
Some thoughts on the poem...
Okay, I’ve had this idea in my brain for a while, though originally it was “if life is meditation, Crossworlds is my breath.” I changed it to be less confusing and more relatable, but it’s still true to my experience. But holy crap, this was hard to write. The original draft of this is two solid pages of my brain spiraling in all directions, because when you’re writing about your anxieties and the world’s expectations, how do you not get swept away in those feelings? I suppose I wasn’t 100% honest, and this is why “Crossworlds,” and not “writing” is my breath. Still, this was in my brain, and needed to exist.
Anyway, if you are also a “writer,” I hope you can relate. If not, please tell me what your version of this is. If life is meditation, what if your breath?
Anyway, if you are also a “writer,” I hope you can relate. If not, please tell me what your version of this is. If life is meditation, what if your breath?
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