What you can plan is too small for you to live.
What you can live wholeheartedly will make plans enough
for the vitality hidden in your sleep.*
A morning when you become a pure vessel
For what wants to ascend from silence
To reach beyond silence
And the wheel of repitition.
In order to come to birth
In a clean line of form,
That claims from time
A rhythm not yet heard
That calls space to
A different shape.**
I do not know this day,
I have never met it before.
Before I imprint it with memory,
I can allow it to be its own freshness and newness,
Welcoming me to find my newness, too.
What will I leave in yesterday?
What will begin in me
If you are comfortable with where you are, you will never know how far you can go. If you refuse to change, then you refuse to grow.^
*David Whyte’s A Morning Poem:
**John O’Donohue’s Benedictus: For Artists at the Start of the Day;
^Erwin McManus’ The Way of the Warrior.