I’ll turn 50 in less than a fortnight.
It has me thinking.
And drinking strong coffee on the porch while families of birds squabble
cars rumble by
and the sun stretches upward.
“You cannot force these things.”
Who whispers this into my ear?
Loud enough to be heard over the babbling morning birds
Soft enough to cause me to strain to hear it well.
We cannot force these things.
We can only set the stage
coach the actors
and cultivate the craft of living.
And show up honestly
each day as the story progresses
in sort of an “active rest”
Living and tending to our responsibilities
while waiting for the other forces
to practice and play their parts.
It’s a production of years
which moves us from self and stuff
to us and we
my way or highway
to how can I help
and what can we solve together?
The trick I am learning
in the quiet of a late spring morning on the porch before work
is to stay with the uncertainties
and deny fear
the opportunity to rewrite the play.
Let hope be hope
Learn to love the desire for sweeter things
and not hate the normal longing of
show up for practice.
You can’t force these things.
***Last night, I soaked the sweetness of new music in the backyard of friends of years and moments. Enjoy Humming House and Fly On.