Well of Peace

In the soft

        Enfolding dimness

            Of the deep woods

Stands

        In quiet grace

            A birch

Amid the deep

        And patterned greens

            Of pine and cedar

White trunk

        Grows from grey

            To gleaming brilliance

                Climbing to the sun

It rises

        Assured and branchless

            Into the canopy

Exploding

        In leaves of dappled green

            In glowing light

I feel myself

        Reaching, rising

            Climbing sunward

                Fingers grasping for light

To touch

        In glorious, ecstatic joy

            The life-giving beam

I revel

        Bathed

            In buttery sun

And yet

        Down in the dim

            And half-lit world

The birch

        Is striving

            Within a darker realm

Its roots

        Reach down and spread

            Within a lightless soil

In darkness

        Seeking nourishment

            And living water

Amid the soft

        Decaying mass

            Of what has lived before

I feel my toes

        Burrowing

            Into the welcoming soil

Cool

        Damp, reassuring

            It enfolds my feet

Like the birch

        Striving, growing

            Within both darkness

                And light

Enriched by both

        Pure energy of radiant life

            And dark decay of death

One giving

        Stability

            Grounded, rooted in darkness

The other

        Grace

            And beauty glowing bright

Lest we forget

        It grows

            In two directions, always

Lest we forget

        We are sustained

            Nourished in both worlds

So stands the birch

        In sturdy graceful beauty

            Lest we forget.

I am reading “The Dance” by Oriah Mountain Dreamer. In it she says, ” What if the question is not, why am I so infrequently the person I really want to be, but why do I so infrequently want to be the person I really am?” I agree with the sentiment, but then wonder why it is necessary for her to write an entire book to help us “be who we are?” It seems that it should be the easiest thing in the world to be who you are. But it isn’t. We seem so much more comfortable trying to change ourselves to conform to some ideal image. Shouldn’t we be more compassionate, more present, better, thinner, healthier, smarter, richer, or just more spiritual? How do you stop striving and just be and still be what you want? Are we so sure that what we are is not what we should be? Perhaps it is just the echoes of all the “thou shalt nots” but I am convinced that I need to control myself, to not let my inner impulses loose. And yet, I want to be who I am. How do I do that?