Oh man.. I've totally done this too. Letting my passionate interest (albeit genuine) get in the way of being present with loved ones. I love the poem as well!
So glad to hear this landed, Allie. And yes… I’ve definitely let a genuine interest become a bit of a distraction more than once. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one. Thanks for reading, and for the kind words.
What a beautiful expression of the difficult choice between the seduction of ideas and words and the seduction of the world—the setting sun, the laughter of children. And what if you were to have another sneaking suspicion—that both are illusory, not one more real than the other? Is the fear of missing the real merely the grass being greener on the other side? And this duality, this bloody duality; splitting us down the middle with words and more words that craft difference. That tiny brain of ours,itself split into two, enjoying the trickle of nectar that flows down each realisation that is not a realisation at all but a resonance of a profound and eternal longing. The longing to be one and not two; a longing to be one with our thoughts and experiences; to be one with the one we love; and finally to be one with the one we are all a part of. The one and only one.
I found you on Substack today. I’m trying to limit the number of people I follow, but I must have had a “cosmic bop” on the head because I hit subscribe. Beautiful writing!
Yet I sensed and commented repeatedly a sense of an actual vacation occurring. It felt like you and likely wonderful wife were having the “less stress—more rest” type of adventure and even grand(!)children were relishing space and fun with themselves and wonderful parents.
Uplifting images accompanied sweet breath’s full inhale and gentle breath release as lines sharing a breeze caress, a sunset’s glory, or reflective insight touched my heart and diminished distance of convergence. How I loved every poem, that drifted from there to here. They arrived with tickling joy and essence of beauty, of life being such a treasure of fleeting moments of now strung together with thread of awareness. They reminded me to breathe in this moment and live in beauty, here, now. Welcome home where heart brings heart home, where one always is home and doing and being what calls one to be the known self one is. Little by little we / I learn who it is I am, and that I take myself wherever I go.
Mom, thank you. I really loved reading this. You picked up on the spirit of that time so clearly. There was rest, laughter, and some real presence in the mix.
It means a lot to know the poems landed with you the way they did. I always appreciate how you read between the lines and bring your whole heart to it. Love you.
"The life I missed while searching for it." That line got me. One of the most pivotal points on my journey was surrendering all seeking for being. I'd like to say I did that willingly, but it came on the heels of a massive burnout. It's been over ten years since that terrible turn, and I couldn't be more grateful for it. No matter how "reachy" I get at times, something snaps me back so hard. I can't shake what I found in my own nothingness--the treasure is already right here, even closer and more intimate than my own breath. Thank you, once again, for a lovely piece to contemplate and reflect on.
McCall, thank you. Your words are incredibly touching, and I feel so grateful that you shared this here.
Everything you said resonates so deeply: the surrender, the burnout, the treasure already here. I know that reachy feeling too, and how it pulls until something, often unexpectedly, brings us right back to the ground of being. "Closer and more intimate than my own breath" -- yes! That’s it!
I’m truly honored that the piece offered something to reflect with. And so grateful for the way you reflected it back.
Can feel like such a tenuous thing sometimes, eh? Being here and now.
There's a whole web of "stuff" around this, and I'm sure you already know about it. I'm learning what's worth less time (and mental devotion) than I'm giving it.
Yes, it really can feel so delicate, this whole “being here and now” thing. Like trying to hold water in your hands.
That web you mention… I might be all too familiar with it. And still, I always love hearing about more. It’s truly intoxicating — how easily we get caught, how subtly it spins itself into our attention.
I’m right there with you, slowly learning what deserves less of my time and inner bandwidth. A messy, beautiful unraveling.
Yes — sometimes a gentle whisper won’t cut it, and the universe kindly bonks us on the head instead. A little cosmic bop… just to say, “Still here. Still now.”
And maybe the forgetting is part of the magic. Without it, how could we ever rediscover the wonder? Every time we remember, it’s like hearing the song again for the first time.
So here’s to forgetting, remembering, and all the grace in between.
Oh man.. I've totally done this too. Letting my passionate interest (albeit genuine) get in the way of being present with loved ones. I love the poem as well!
So glad to hear this landed, Allie. And yes… I’ve definitely let a genuine interest become a bit of a distraction more than once. It’s a relief to know I’m not the only one. Thanks for reading, and for the kind words.
What a beautiful expression of the difficult choice between the seduction of ideas and words and the seduction of the world—the setting sun, the laughter of children. And what if you were to have another sneaking suspicion—that both are illusory, not one more real than the other? Is the fear of missing the real merely the grass being greener on the other side? And this duality, this bloody duality; splitting us down the middle with words and more words that craft difference. That tiny brain of ours,itself split into two, enjoying the trickle of nectar that flows down each realisation that is not a realisation at all but a resonance of a profound and eternal longing. The longing to be one and not two; a longing to be one with our thoughts and experiences; to be one with the one we love; and finally to be one with the one we are all a part of. The one and only one.
Thank you for this beautifully rendered meditation.
Your words ripple like a bell
through the dualities we all feel
but rarely name aloud.
And yes, that longing you speak of...
the ache to be one and not two.
It is something I’ve been sitting with more and more.
The metaphor of the grass being greener
has been ringing in my own ear alongside it.
I’ve started to wonder...
if we were ever truly one in that monistic,
indivisible sense (no subject, no object, no other)...
what would that feel like?
Peace? Belonging? Certainly!
But would I, in that unity,
know the thrill of discovery?
Could I recognize beauty without contrast?
Could I even know I was whole,
without something to compare it to?
Sometimes I suspect
the grass-is-greener ache
isn’t a flaw in perception,
but a feature of it.
Maybe that whisper
of something more
is what draws us
into form in the first place.
A kind of divine curiosity.
A longing from oneness,
rather than for it.
And so when that whisper comes — “you’re missing it” —
I’m starting to hear it differently.
Not as scolding, but as invitation.
This life, this apparent separateness,
this riot of color and ache and joy…
maybe this is exactly what we came here to feel.
The tremble of love.
The sting of grief.
The electric flash of surprise.
All the things the One could never know without becoming Two.
The longing remains.
But maybe it’s also the compass.
The thread back to where we began
and where we’ll return.
In the meantime, what a gift to live it.
To notice it.
To share it with another.
Thank you for being that “other”
in this moment —
and for reflecting back
such beauty, clarity, and truth.
Oh, to be that slumbering,
eternal cosmic being
that knew no time,
no joy, no surprise, no pain
only a restless eternal calm
To be the galaxies
and the voids in between
To be the sun and the stars
To be the dirt and the rain
To be the tree and the shade
To be the lover and the loved
To be the mother and the child
To be their ecstasy
To be their memory
To be their pain
To live and live again
In a trillion quantum fields
At once and again
And again and again
differently and never the same
To find an echo
To find an other
To be two once again
and not just one
To be, to be, to be.
Thank you Glenn for that provocation. It has been a lovely Saturday morning. Love and hugs to you.
I found you on Substack today. I’m trying to limit the number of people I follow, but I must have had a “cosmic bop” on the head because I hit subscribe. Beautiful writing!
Thank you, Nicola.
I’m honored to be one of the few. 😊 🙏
Well, I wondered…
Yet I sensed and commented repeatedly a sense of an actual vacation occurring. It felt like you and likely wonderful wife were having the “less stress—more rest” type of adventure and even grand(!)children were relishing space and fun with themselves and wonderful parents.
Uplifting images accompanied sweet breath’s full inhale and gentle breath release as lines sharing a breeze caress, a sunset’s glory, or reflective insight touched my heart and diminished distance of convergence. How I loved every poem, that drifted from there to here. They arrived with tickling joy and essence of beauty, of life being such a treasure of fleeting moments of now strung together with thread of awareness. They reminded me to breathe in this moment and live in beauty, here, now. Welcome home where heart brings heart home, where one always is home and doing and being what calls one to be the known self one is. Little by little we / I learn who it is I am, and that I take myself wherever I go.
Mom, thank you. I really loved reading this. You picked up on the spirit of that time so clearly. There was rest, laughter, and some real presence in the mix.
It means a lot to know the poems landed with you the way they did. I always appreciate how you read between the lines and bring your whole heart to it. Love you.
"The life I missed while searching for it." That line got me. One of the most pivotal points on my journey was surrendering all seeking for being. I'd like to say I did that willingly, but it came on the heels of a massive burnout. It's been over ten years since that terrible turn, and I couldn't be more grateful for it. No matter how "reachy" I get at times, something snaps me back so hard. I can't shake what I found in my own nothingness--the treasure is already right here, even closer and more intimate than my own breath. Thank you, once again, for a lovely piece to contemplate and reflect on.
McCall, thank you. Your words are incredibly touching, and I feel so grateful that you shared this here.
Everything you said resonates so deeply: the surrender, the burnout, the treasure already here. I know that reachy feeling too, and how it pulls until something, often unexpectedly, brings us right back to the ground of being. "Closer and more intimate than my own breath" -- yes! That’s it!
I’m truly honored that the piece offered something to reflect with. And so grateful for the way you reflected it back.
Thank you, Glenn, for receiving my sharing the way you do. Such a gift.
Can feel like such a tenuous thing sometimes, eh? Being here and now.
There's a whole web of "stuff" around this, and I'm sure you already know about it. I'm learning what's worth less time (and mental devotion) than I'm giving it.
Daniel, thank you for this.
Yes, it really can feel so delicate, this whole “being here and now” thing. Like trying to hold water in your hands.
That web you mention… I might be all too familiar with it. And still, I always love hearing about more. It’s truly intoxicating — how easily we get caught, how subtly it spins itself into our attention.
I’m right there with you, slowly learning what deserves less of my time and inner bandwidth. A messy, beautiful unraveling.
Appreciate you being in this with me.
Beautiful poem and reminder 🙏🏻
Thank you, Tina 🙏 😊
Beautiful! Sometimes we just have to knocked on the head to get it!
Thanks for the reminder!
Franny! Oh yes! Thank you. 😊 🙏
Yes — sometimes a gentle whisper won’t cut it, and the universe kindly bonks us on the head instead. A little cosmic bop… just to say, “Still here. Still now.”
And maybe the forgetting is part of the magic. Without it, how could we ever rediscover the wonder? Every time we remember, it’s like hearing the song again for the first time.
So here’s to forgetting, remembering, and all the grace in between.
Grateful for you always. 🙏