More reading,
less face-booking,
an addictive pastime;
one hour is too much,
ten are not enough.
Face to face contact,
(I miss that),
except with doctors
who can provide no answers,
hand me an invite to the
next party in six months;
I know they do their best.
Exercise; this will involve
the bottom stair and me in
a few casual calf stretches,
unless the cat happens to
be resting there, then I will
leave it until tomorrow.
I will be kinder to myself,
let my dog make better use
of the stick I often hold to
beat myself up;
practice self-compassion,
maybe a little Mudita,
wandering in and out of my
Buddhist inspired lifestyle
depending upon current
level of acceptance.
These are not resolutions;
I’ve tried before and
they don’t work.
These are goals or aims,
a less challenging image,
one of sauntering sideways
rather than forward,
but a shift nonetheless
and better than standing still.
journeyintopoetry 