When I’m struck by fear or shame
at what I am or what I’ve done,
I try to think of how I’m made
of blood and neurons, flesh and bone.
I think about the photons that
reached my eyes then realigned
to mix with countless words and sounds
and fashioned notions in my mind.
I try to notice how this mix
mixes more and shifts with time,
so much that I can’t say I’m this,
or that, or what in me is only mine.
So when fear or shame stops in
to roughly shove my “self” around,
I recall that I’m not me,
that “I” am not and can’t be found.
This helps me see that stressful tides
are balanced by the happy flows,
and every single bit that lives,
including me, will come and go.