I can ease into my Zen
(also known as my Happy Place)
As I would into a pair of old shoes.
It is my usual and preferred state of being.
I don’t completely disassociate from reality.
Physically, yes. Spiritually, not so much.
To be honest, I try to focus all the energy
That would be expended on the physical
Into the spiritual where life is more productive
And, also to be honest, more pleasant.
No pain. No worry. No frustration.
There are those who say ‘That isn’t life.’
My reply is ‘Life is what you make it.’
I have reached a certain stage
Where I am not so much driven as
Put to pasture and left to graze.
At least that is my understanding and my stated purpose.
Others may disagree.
This might be just an intermediate stage
Between that intensely focused period
Where food, shelter and sex
Morph into mindless senility.
My objective now is to prolong this intermediate state
For as long as I am able.
It is productive in many ways,
Not the least of which is to concentrate
On topics that are more important to me now than yesterday,
Like why I made so many damned mistakes along the way.
It’s too late to correct them but not too late to learn
And, in pondering my wandering ways,
Examine them and document them
Perhaps to leave behind something of value.
Others may find my state of Zen
Annoying, objectionable, or baffling.
OK. To be expected when they have yet to attain
That same level of peace and detachment.
So I am forced to be aware
Of how abject and pitiful my life truly is.
Just can’t let sleeping dogs lie.
But here I lie, scratching my ear, wagging my tail.
There is no going back.
Their mantra of Busy, Busy, Busy
Keeps spilling over into my quiet backwater
Causing ripples to spread, calling for my attention.
I avert my eyes, turn on my deaf switch
And try to let it all drift over me.
This technique is usually considered an escalation.
Regrettably MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction)
Is not a philosophy understood by all.
And so, after thinking it all over,
And considering all the options available,
I have decided that your Busy is not equivalent to my Busy.
My Busy is sitting here minding my own business,
Deep in my Zen.
Your Busy is yours to pursue. I wish you well.
After 50 years of work and 45 years of marriage,
I think I’ve earned that right to