I’ve lost:
Three hours of work on the last chapter
Friends I thought I had for life
The golden cross pendant my godmother gave me
Faith in God
Frequently, my equanimity
I almost lost:
The way out of the woods
My passport and smartphone at the Dutch tulip show
My virginity before I was ready
Three months’ earnings when I was mugged
Consciousness
I could easily lose:
The ability to walk down hills
More of my teeth
The man I will marry next month
The German names of birds
My sanity
No doubt I will lose:
My life and identity
My possessions
My achievements
My family and friends
Anything ‘me’ and ‘mine’
What cannot be lost:
a black-and-white cat
stalking the edge of the field
ready to pounce
by Ratnadevi
An intriguing poem by Ratnadevi – mindfulness teacher, poet, painter and author of the book Bringing Mindfulness to Life (which I highly recommend, by the way, as probably the most alive and relatable-to books on mindfulness that I have read, and I’m not the only one who thinks that). It’s an evocative mix of ingredients, which made me curious about what I would have written to these topics. But the last one in particular really left me pondering. Why did she name this seemingly random moment with the black-and-white cat as that which cannot be lost? Because it although it can be found, it cannot be owned as it’s life itself, happening right there at the edge of the field?
I can only guess. But it leaves me curious about what can be found but not held on to in this moment, and the next. Perhaps… everything?
PS if you’re curious to explore the magic of meeting life as it’s flowing, the Being Present course might be a good place to start…
Photo by Irene Strong on Unsplash
