Today I’m off to hospital for the knee surgery that was postponed in December last year. Given the events that set the scenario in motion – a motorcycle accident in Athens, Greece, 1972, and given the subsequent wear and tear in over 30 years of leg-work, it’s easy to see that it’s all happening as it must. Gratitude for my Orthopedic surgeon and his team, and for access to a humane hospital facility.
Like most folk I longed for emotional equanimity
But longing – like its twin, avoiding – isn’t something wee-me does
it’s what wee-me is.
When dear wee-me was exposed for what-it-is
its games were seen as mental skylarking, and
the ideal of equanimity ceased to be relevant.
This unknowable knowingness – let’s call it ‘I’
is untroubled by the ups and downs of life,
by the dangers and pleasures of emotional expression.
Resting as ‘I’, emotions are free to be.
And in that freedom they rise,
swirl and fade
like the mists on this mountain.
That’s my version of peace.