Archive for the No Expectations Category

How I Found Happiness through Lowered Expectations

Posted in gratitutde, Jantor To The Temple Of The Holy of Holies, Much Too Good For Children, No Expectations, Poetry, Possibly Dangerous to Everyone with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 21, 2014 by dreamlanddancing

How I Found Happiness through Lowered Expectations

“There is no need for attainment with nothing to attain.”

(Seung Sahn)

*****

When Dreams become Expectations

we set aside Gratitude to be replaced with Envy.

When wishes and desires

become tyrants

we become slaves to Suffering,

held down by the chains of covetousness

pulling us beneath the waters of Despair,

too blinded by Greed to recognize

the lifeboat of Opportunity

awaiting only

recognition and acknowledgement.

A dream without a plan

is a sparrow’s fart

in a hurricane,

but a dream with a plan

is a goal

that is both patient and tireless

and willing to accept

course corrections

like a sailboat tacking into the wind.

“You’re not the Man I thought you were…”

said she.

“Then open your heart to love the Man I am

he said.

or love me not at all

if it should bring you sorrow,

for I am a living, mutable changing being,

not trophy to be hung upon your wall.”

*****

 

Even as the moon shall wax and wane

according to her nature

if we should grow apart

gratitude provides the cadence

and patience sets the meter

as acceptance

awaits

the return of

our song.

All is impermanence.

Impermanence is all.

The Uroboros

reminds us we shall meet again.

The Phoenix

teaches us how.

To learn to enjoy Nothing

when we realize

that in having nothing,

we have Nothing in common

except the gratitude

that no one can take from us

for knowing the joy

of the seemingly random coincidence

of having collided in the first place

with no expectations

in the midst of nothing in particular

where Nothing is everywhere.

In that moment we are rich

in our abundance of Nothing.

Be like the Willow

or swim with the tide.

Do not curse

the waters that carry you away

as you swim so hard against the tide,

only to drown

before you have the opportunity

to wash upon my shore again,

or me to yours.

It matters not

which way or how.

The sting of the pangs of nostalgia

that causes us to sigh

and shed a tear

for that which once was

reminds us of its beauty

so we can recognize it once again.

As we gratefully and patiently

welcome its return

if it should be,

and teach us how to be

in that timeless state of grace

that is ours

without asking.

Without demands.

Without expectations.

In the meantime.

 

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