This body of mine is mostly space.
Sitting in a room that is mostly space.
On a planet that is mostly space.
In a universe where the stars and planets are just tiny dots
In the vast spaciousness of it all.
And yet this mind of mine is so crowded.
Thoughts, fears, worries and projections,
Jostling with each other, seeking dominance.
And my life ends up the same.
One thing, and the next, and the next.
We crave space as much as we fear it.
Physical, mental, emotional, space.
From others, from the incessant demands,
From the debilitating worse-case scenario imaginings
Of our anxious minds.
Space is what comes when the
Thinking, doing, planning, and worrying, ceases.
It is a letting go, a surrender.
You cannot think or do your way to space.
Space is allowed to come, not chased, or strived for or forced.
And when it comes, it brings friends.
Peace, calm, equanimity.
A softening of the body and a releasing
Of the incessant worries that erode
Our belief in our selves and our worth.
In the space there is knowing.
A still small voice within,
It holds wisdom and truth,
That was always there,
Only covered by the chaos and noise.
You are worthy.
You are loveable,
You have always been,
and could never stop being,