The gorgeous sky doesn’t wonder if she should be blue.
The sweet grass doesn’t worry about whether she is green enough.
It is us, our own eyes and neural networks interpreting greenness, blueness, and enoughness.
The crow doesn’t fret about the coarseness of her cawing.
The cicada is not concerned with the volume of her buzzing.
It is us, our own ears and reactionary mind analyzing smoothness, loudness, and appropriateness.
When I sit on the grass beneath the trees and sky,
when I hear the crows and cicadas singing,
I remember that I am singing too, a creature with her own song.
When I sit beneath the green leaves under the blue sky,
I remember they way my blue eyes and brown hair are draped in enoughness.
I remember that my living is enough, and I let go of looking at myself from the outside.
I let go of interpretation, reaction, and analysis.
I settle into my arms, my hands, hips, legs, and feet,
I settle into gravity and feel myself from the inside.
And I know that this is, that I am
Generous Wisdom | Spacious Heart 