I worked to build the perfect house around me,

with big bay windows facing the sunrise.

Every detail was just so.

I knew just when to move,

just where to go.

Everything went according to plan,

for a while.

But it was fragile.

The wind blew a tree down

and my bay windows shattered.

The coffee maker broke,

there was construction on the highway,

things were delayed.

And nothing,

I mean nothing,

went according to plan.

I built my house on the fragile foundation

of how it “should be.”

Of course it crumbled.

Until I had a moment

(I’m sure it was a quiet moment, alone)

when I remembered

to build my house on the inside first.

To be with what is.

To connect to the moment.

To focus on what I can do,

instead of what is not as it “should be”

Here’s the thing: that story has been my story again and again.

I remember (I know) that my inner world, my way of being, generates my outer world. And I spend time building up my inner world. I journal. I meditate. I pray. I strengthen my connection to that quiet voice inside until we have a dedicated line to each other. And things get better. Wonderful really.

Then I forget. I stop practicing.

My life is going so well! Why not make it perfect? So I try to control all of my circumstances, create a fragile sort of utopia, for a while, and then things inevitably break down and I break down with them. Because I lost that inner connection. And now there’s no foundation.

Then I remember.

And it starts again.

I don’t want to forget this time. So I’m writing about it; about what works, what brings me joy and connection. What keeps me here to experience the time that I have. Thanks for reading.

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