the mire

“Who of you by worrying can add a single hour to his life?”

Drudging in my own turf of mire, I wasn't sure what I was feeling. I felt the intense pressure to worry but at the same time had enough perspective to be assured that any thing will work out in the end. It really is about liking an outcome, an outcome among a myriad of possible outcomes. Restless. Must do something. Yet, I was fighting this need to do anything. I took up the doggie’s invitation (well, I don’t think she invited me, but nonetheless welcomed me) to sit with her and stare out her picture window (yeah, it’s her territory, none of us center our lives around it really).

“See how the flowers of the field grow. They do not labor or spin.”

I told myself to be still and squish the mire with my wriggly toes.

~exp