The Art Of
I have been a soldier
muddy, half-starved, freezing
longing to go home
I was once a dancer
a beautiful woman, I suppose,
maybe an ugly one too?
I’ve been both a prisoner
and a jailer
and learned they’re mostly
the same, and that power and
opportunism and desperation
play too heavily on the human psyche,
that we are not to be trusted
under the sway of their influence
I’ve lived through most labels
and descriptions and jobs
and through these identities
I’ve preferred those that
were simple, unassuming,
and generous
I’ve earned a little money
and lost a lot of it
fallen into love and out
have broken hearts
and had my own broken
both are agonizing
both impossible to avoid
I sunk so deep into violence once
that it taught me
how to be tender,
how to make my touch
caring and safe
I’ve felt the outer limits
of the brain
and there, where the mind stops,
convulsing,
foaming at the mouth,
vision going black,
pressed against the far reaches
of what cognition can do,
I felt grateful for my little brain
while learning that
it is not built for understanding.
I have been born and born and born
and I have died and died and died
and, still, I cannot fathom the scope
nor purpose
of life’s curriculum
But there have been a few teachings
that I have felt, as life has poured
through me,
worth keeping:
Do not fetishize your wounds
they are not unique
and are far too interested in themselves
Do not idolize grief
recognize it, name it, let it be your friend,
feed it and tend to it when you must
but do not worship grief
or give it a home in your temple
it can become a vain and depraved God
Do not reject suffering
by turning away from it
suffering is diminished
when we have the courage
to look right at it
Do not let love be so precious
that you cannot lose it
Do not try to fix, do not try to change
do not try to manipulate,
do not empower your preferences
do not act from a righteous place
You will slip up on this,
we all slip up on this,
humility is the way back to centeredness
Do not give the horror so much power
that it consumes you
as it can, and will, consume you
Do not believe too much in your humanity
but do not give it all away
do not believe too much in your self
but do not become too interested
in rejecting your self either
Tribes and groups and cultures
religions and creeds and icons
are all temporary
if we are lucky, and diligent,
we will—someday—
expand beyond our need of them.
The art of living is in the All,
in the obliteration of this-or-that,
us-or-them, me-and-other-than-me;
the art of living is in becoming Whole
and relating to Wholeness.
The art of loving in is freeing
not possessing
The art of feeling
and seeing
and experiencing
is in allowance and recognition
The art of cognition
is in knowing the limitations
of cognition
The art of consciousness
is the art of Wonder,
Awareness,
and Awe.
All one.
All one.
All one.
Awe.
Awe.
Awe.
Feb 9
Feb 9, 2026 at 3:35 PM UTC
The Art Of
I have been a soldier
muddy, half-starved, freezing
longing to go home
I was once a dancer
a beautiful woman, I suppose,
maybe an ugly one too?
I’ve been both a prisoner
and a jailer
and learned they’re mostly
the same, and that power and
opportunism and desperation
play too heavily on the human psyche,
that we are not to be trusted
under the sway of their influence
I’ve lived through most labels
and descriptions and jobs
and through these identities
I’ve preferred those that
were simple, unassuming,
and generous
I’ve earned a little money
and lost a lot of it
fallen into love and out
have broken hearts
and had my own broken
both are agonizing
both impossible to avoid
I sunk so deep into violence once
that it taught me
how to be tender,
how to make my touch
caring and safe
I’ve felt the outer limits
of the brain
and there, where the mind stops,
convulsing,
foaming at the mouth,
vision going black,
pressed against the far reaches
of what cognition can do,
I felt grateful for my little brain
while learning that
it is not built for understanding.
I have been born and born and born
and I have died and died and died
and, still, I cannot fathom the scope
nor purpose
of life’s curriculum
But there have been a few teachings
that I have felt, as life has poured
through me,
worth keeping:
Do not fetishize your wounds
they are not unique
and are far too interested in themselves
Do not idolize grief
recognize it, name it, let it be your friend,
feed it and tend to it when you must
but do not worship grief
or give it a home in your temple
it can become a vain and depraved God
Do not reject suffering
by turning away from it
suffering is diminished
when we have the courage
to look right at it
Do not let love be so precious
that you cannot lose it
Do not try to fix, do not try to change
do not try to manipulate,
do not empower your preferences
do not act from a righteous place
You will slip up on this,
we all slip up on this,
humility is the way back to centeredness
Do not give the horror so much power
that it consumes you
as it can, and will, consume you
Do not believe too much in your humanity
but do not give it all away
do not believe too much in your self
but do not become too interested
in rejecting your self either
Tribes and groups and cultures
religions and creeds and icons
are all temporary
if we are lucky, and diligent,
we will—someday—
expand beyond our need of them.
The art of living is in the All,
in the obliteration of this-or-that,
us-or-them, me-and-other-than-me;
the art of living is in becoming Whole
and relating to Wholeness.
The art of loving in is freeing
not possessing
The art of feeling
and seeing
and experiencing
is in allowance and recognition
The art of cognition
is in knowing the limitations
of cognition
The art of consciousness
is the art of Wonder,
Awareness,
and Awe.
All one.
All one.
All one.
Awe.
Awe.
Awe.
