I wake up to blue light
I see it when I close my eyes

frustrated and weighted by comparison
I filter my intensity
condense my personality
I show tongue and teeth but no failures or flaws

I see you in your squares, in all your glow
I want to see the dirt under your fingernails
want you to see me cry, my pores up close, counting your eyelashes
I don't want to see twenty pictures res of the same sunset
cascading down a feed that never fulfills
shades changed and tweaked at exposure
I am exposed ever day
but am I known
I want to see the world by your side
not through your phone
hear the sunsets reflect in your tone

I don't want to lose a bet with myself that I don't stare I don't scroll
lose my evening to a screen
my life to anxiety of how people see me
but I want to be seen

I want to know you beyond squares
and validation screams content for moments till I review my content
view myself in the eyes of another
a narcissistic shudder
I doubt and judge myself
wishing not to compare not to care
yet impulse is too lovable
addiction and algorithmic luring
habits savaged a daily instinct
to share
to show my life through squares

I know what you're thinking,
To me it keeps ringing

When you look at her you see
Someone who's much better than me

When you look at me you see
Someone who'd never be as pretty

All of us have inner hidden dreams,
We hope, wish, in time will come true, in some way,
We often miss, or pass them by,
Hoping for a better situation,
Then after time passes, we look back, and wonder why,
Life will always have road blocks,
We detour, or avoid, not to change our ways,
Then sooner or later, we find our spot,
Where we feel comfortable, and stay,
We can not compare, everything we see with our eyes,
If we wait to late, some decisions,
we will look back and cry,
Sometimes our emotions, give certain signs,
That only others, can see, we can pass them by,
Missing a part of our life,
Where we were supposed to be.

                                                                        Tom Maxwell ©
                                                                         06/10/20 AD
                                                                           10:30 PM

There is no home like sitting.
But words take one step toward the mind
And one step away from "I".

Time equals dedication.
Aspiring to be as dedicated as my house mate,
Rather even more dedicated.
How do I compete with almost 50 years of regular practice?
Just minute by minute.
No comparison is really needed.
He has his mantra and siddhis,
While I have my shikantaza.

Anxious.
Feeling insufficient.
Knowing I'm insufficient.
Wanting insufficiency.
Not quite sufficient.
Comparing and contrasting.
Contrasting.

Wanting acceptance to be my most authentic self.
What is my most authentic self?
Where do I find her?

Focusing on the next milestone.
Getting there and doing the same.
What do we meet at the milestone?
Will be happy will be content will be accepted will be winning,
at the next milestone.

How do you live in the present moment?
What is the present moment?

'why is it,'
i consistently asked
'do the stars light up the sky
side by side
so confidently
not in fear of each other?'

my mom turned to me, eyes alight with curiosity
'whatever could you mean?'

'it's just...' i hesitated with the words about to fall off the tip of my tongue but lacking their density and conviction to be given
'there isn't one star
there are many
and they all shine together
aren't they afraid one day
they would be overshadowed?'

mom laughed
'well
maybe they do
but don't you see
if all the stars were too occupied shining brighter than the other
the sky wouldn't be as beautiful

when you do your own thing
and not look at anyone else with ill intention at heart
can't you see how even more beautiful you would be?'

What did she have that I’m missing? What did you have then vs. now that changes things? It’s hard to feel like it’s not me. I’m sorry. I’m sure I’m adding to your stress and I’m sure I’m not helping but I just want you to see what this seems like to me, especially considering my history— nobody has ever been sure of me, really.