An Exercise in Mindful Forgetting

Photo by Adam Azim on Unsplash

Over the weekend, I watched the movie “Don’t Look Up.” It was difficult to watch, and so worth it. There is a small, poignant moment at the end that got me thinking about the smallest good thing, and how sometimes that’s enough to go on, or at least become content in the face of disaster. I don’t know if I’ve captured that here, but at least you know what was on my mind for this one.

It is an exercise in mindful forgetting

to wake up in the morning into this world

as it is, wounded,

to know the weather has been twisted

into an instrument of destruction

to see even in the hills of my favorite walk --

as close to me as the curves of my own body --

a sliding erosion.

To know this is also the fate of my body.

And with all of this:

to plunge my hands into an afternoon sunbeam,

saturate my skin with clear winter light

so every tiny hair sparkles,

every blue vein glows,

the ends of my fingers are warm again.

Another day is possible.