There is a space
a hollow
where one can get caught
trapped.
A space of contemplation
that although silent,
is nothing close to quiet.
The cacophony of voices
outdated and false
perpetuating misbeliefs
bolstering notions
of lack
unworthiness.
I sit amongst these voices
witness their false declarations pull at me like the tides
dragging me out and under
throwing me back to land
watching
waiting
to see
if I will crawl
up to solid and dry ground
or sit on the shifting sands
to be pulled out and under again.
There’s a koan imparting wisdom-
to survive the plunge over the waterfall
to the jagged rocks below
one must be the water.
So, I sit.
I sit,
becoming the ocean,
the tides,
a wave,
a drop.
I watch beliefs
tug
pull at me.
I finally see them,
an external force
no longer originating within.
These works come from that hollow space.
They come from within the hours of this inner dialogue.
They come from edge of the beach and from beneath the waves.
They come from becoming the drop. -eweber
