no mud, no lotus
no boots, no gloves
bare feet, open fingers
i sink, i release
no mud, no lotus.
I scribble these words—no mud, no lotus—as a writing prompt, and find myself falling into the moment: creating a poem. In that free form experiencing, I see that sometimes we want to surrender into the feeling, but we are afraid to sink because we believe that tools are necessary.
No boots, no gloves. No mud, no lotus.
We are not protected from the elements or our hearts; especially when we are parched, and words do not fall from our lips.
Yet it is the very elements, dry sand and clay, that we can scoop up, hold for a few moments, and let it sift through our hands, slowly feeling the grit of our existence, knowing that one day the rains will return filling the pools, and making puddles.
And, that lotus seed will crack open, roots sinking into the mud, as its stem bends upwards, slowly budding and unfolding into the lotus flower.
But first, we must learn to let go of that seed, skip it across the sand and wait for those rains to flow again before we can pick the lotus.
Like elephant journal on Facebook.
Ed: Sara Crolick
hot on elephant
July’s Full Moon in Capricorn: The Heart wants what it Wants. The 4 Stages of a Good Divorce. How to Love a Woman who Scares You. Our Soulmates are Rarely Who We Expect. Men, Let’s Stop Fooling Ourselves: Size Matters. A Letter to my Children: You do not come from a Broken Home. To the One Who Tried to Break Me. An Open Letter to the Fixers. How your Stored Memories in the Amygdala can lead to PTSD. How My Sister’s Death Transformed my Self-Perception.