Whither the whisssper….

My plate is full. It’s a paper plate and loaded with soggy stuff and I lost my spork.

Waste not want not. I waste myself in fruitless wanting and wishing, even though I tell myself my wants and wishes are more refined than they used to be. You know, mostly spiritual; but they are not spiritual, because they are still wants and wishes disguised as needs.

At some level I’m quite content, at some others I squirm with neediness and wanting.

I want to be content being alone, but I want the contentment to feel good. A notch above regular old contentment. Whatever that is. I do know it’s available, at various times I’ve been that way. But now I’m not.

And, when I’m not content I think it is not available. I do notice that if I sit down facing a wall and allow myself to just be in this world for a few minutes, my discontent goes away and then then I’m content? Vexing. More will be revealed. No doubt.

I sit and look 

At myself, and

When I see no

Thing, there is a

Peace and quiet that

Tells me all is well.

In lessss than a whisper.

 

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