Let Go
Sometimes things can make more sense when we let go of trying to force them to make sense
A Poem
Let Go
East is West in night of day,
A flying pig comes out to play,
Overhead and down below,
Flies up into an empty hollow.
Finds a lock that turns the key,
That hides a world from you and me,
Beings there living outside of fate,
Existing in a sorrowfully ecstatic state.
Holding on tightly to nothing,
Constantly and forever unbecoming,
Remaining superficially deep,
Let go of all and become asleep.
Meditation For The Poem
Our collective efforts spent trying to comprehend the world rests on the very premise that it is something which is able to be comprehended in its entirety in the first place. It is easy to lose sight of the sheer arrogance of this approach and how taking this approach has come to affect the very way in which we interact with Life. It is as if we feel we could possibly contain all of Life’s possibilities within the limits and constraints of our mind or, another way of picturing this is that we feel as though we are gradually able to hold an understanding of Life, with all of its complexities, in a tight grip between our two hands.
