recently I have discovered the need to empty myself
absolutely and unreservedly
of expectation
however small
however insignificant
to release it
actually to relieve myself of any guessing
any hope
any fear
around what it is I might discover in a moment.
And in that act of emptying myself – a total and utter cleansing –
I find myself made anew: free of what could have been, what might be.
As fresh as those dozens of “poor man’s orchids” on the forest floor yesterday: baby, new, just birthed in this autumn season of decay and death
pink and white and supple and nothing like blazing red leaves.
When I become a vessel of what is right now, I find a miracle and beauty:
childlike innocence,
playfulness,
judgment-free exploration of the texture of
this phrase,
the delicate satin lace of that expression,
and the ability to paint something new along the canvas of the present: a gift.
I thought I was going to go strolling but instead I knelt,
I sat,
I stared at the horizon across the water.
I marveled at the sea of yellow leaves blanketing the ground under the sprawling tree.
I was reborn with the wind blowing up,
and through, and under me: lifting my spirits,
erasing my tension.
I knew right then that who I had been the day before, who I imagine I’ll be in tomorrows to come does not matter.
I am simply in community and family, and am a breathing woman on this Earth:
small
humble
ready to face the next thing … expectationless.
(Originally posted on Oct. 19, 2018.)
All blog images created & photographed by Jennifer J. Wilhoit unless otherwise noted. Please circulate images with photo credit: "©2019 JenniferJWilhoit/TEALarbor stories. AllRightsReserved."