So, I thought I would offer you another poem, quite simply.
As I’ve been trying to deepen a prayer practice of stillness, of patience, I’ve found other things can begin to emerge in the quietness of each moment. They include – at times – acceptance, gratitude, joy, blessing. At other times, I feel I am constantly lassoing my thoughts, and asking them to rest and wait quietly for just a minute.
Stillness and waiting and being present, now, can feel awkward. And yet, it is daily bread, not worrying about tomorrow, manna that must be eaten now, while the sun is still above the horizon. It is gentle work.
It has to be made afresh
It is only for today,
only for now.
My fingernails are thick with flour,
I breathe warm yeast,
my arms ache with the kneading,
feeling it come alive
in my hands.
I have done it before, and before,
but the warmth of the dough,
the smell of the bread,
I roll up my sleeves,
pour out soft flour.
I begin again.