By Sigrid E. Mortensen
© 2023
I invite the Self That I Am
To climb down the staircase from my mind
And peer out the windows of my eyes.
I invite the Self That I Am
To sink deep into this body
To feel the weight of it
The truth of it
Pressed against this chair.
I invite the Self That I Am
To turn its attention
Gently
Away from words once spoken
And words yet to speak
And listen instead
To the sounds in the air that breathes me.
The Self That I Am
Yearns to experience Life
Real Life, not
Life Imagined or
Life Remembered
But Life as it is Lived in the Now.
I invite the Self That I Am
To feel this pen in my fingers
And this paper
Smooth
Beneath my hand
And the ever present Joy of this
One moment
That strings like a pearl to the next
And the next
Each uniquely shimmering
Distinct from the one that precedes it
Or the one to follow
But none less achingly beautiful.
The more I issue the invitation
The more it is accepted
The more the worries
And the regrets
Fall away
And I am left with
Giddy gratitude for the
Perfection
Of What Is.