I just can’t keep up anymore.
I don’t know the contestants on American Idol.
Unfinished projects multiply like swirling fractals.
I can’t even keep up with my emails.
Current count is 4,335 messages in the Inbox.
Should I feel guilty?
Am I failing the exam of modern living?
Every morning I begin my day quietly and slowly.
I read. I drink tea. I meditate.
Stillness.
For a nanosecond or two,
Eternity breathes me.
I remember who I am.
I’ve caught up with myself.
And all is well.
Then the whistle blows,
Jarring me from Life to making a living.
I’m already behind.
Throughout the day I catch a whiff of Life…
A laugh with a colleague
An unexpected kind word
A darting contentment fleeing the scene like a fugitive.
Mostly though I move faster and faster to the beat of a cyber-drummer,
Further and further from consciousness.
Where do I go during these hours?
Eventually the sun retreats, having burned itself out once again.
My ashen spirit mimics twilight’s shifting allegiance
From lusty tangerine to oatmeal to a monochromatic surrender.
And then, in the wan eventide, grace saturates the pallor…
A walk with a wire fox terrier
The simple luxury of tea and a book
My lover’s smile tucking me in the for evening…
My grasping, frantic, never-caught-up mind unclenches its fist
And releases my heart,
Which has known the truth all along:
What's most worthy of keeping up with
Keeps up with me
Without any effort on my part.