So much unknown,
The whole world seems in upheaval,
Lately, my focus has been local,
Wondering what will happen with schools,
How sports will ever get to be played,
Will I make it to retirement,
Really not so global in my thinking,
But with the world shrunk down to a computer screen
It’s easy to get lost in self.

So the opportunity to exploit this was before me,
Sitting there with a “Kick Me” sign waiting on me,
For too long, I’ve been running, riding, lifting,
Focusing on the physical, gaining endurance,
Developing strength, getting stiff.
Over in the corner of my home gym rested a bench,
A home made meditation bench,
That let the toxic vapors escape the psyche when I used it.

Before COVID I was on it, since COVID, not so much,
Today was the time, time to get back to more than brute force,
To get back in touch with a freer pursuit.
I folded my limbs into a position of relaxation.
Quads balked, ankles rebelled, but the mind was resolute
Peace was supreme, and my meditative flow sound,
A subtle lumbar pop, a great granting of something known
Calm.

Uh-oh!

I’ve nothing to write about
I have no rants about work
No complaints about anything
No desire to illuminate some
Annoying hypocrisy

Whoa,
What is this?

Is this this peacefulness?
Am I actually content?
Confident?
Relaxed?

Wow.

What a weird feeling
The blues and pinks of sunrise massaging
My supple soul as I sit on the couch
Drinking hot, black coffee
And look forward to this day
Of restorative nothingness

Be well, y’all.

There isn’t much better
Than a cool summer day
With the rain falling,
A good wrestle with my dog,
Justin Townes Earle giving way to Sade,
And my wife hanging around
Intoxicated with the same desire
To do nothing on this perfect
Weekend morning
The windows are open
The house smells like peppered bacon
And the coffee is on-demand
Quiet surrounds the music
Creating a tension free aura
Lacking any sense of importance
For errands, calendars, or work
Just nothing
As it should be

There is honor and glory
In ambiguity
“Use wishy-washy words,”
My high school bio teacher would say
More than ever
I believe his words
For the muck of concrete setting
Jacks me up like onions in spaghetti sauce
Or chives on my loaded fries
After I just asked to have them left off
Too long I labored with the insistence gene
All cock strong and righteous
But with guidance and a patient observation
Of scripture and philosophy
I think the days of blazing intensity are drowning
In a sea of peacefulness
Kneaded under supple considerations
To steer wide of controversy
As always
Imperfections
Exist
Flaring feverishly
And extinguishing quickly
As the negativity gives in
To the tranquil thoughts that are
My wife
My four kids
My two cats
My new dog
Our family
Each providing positivity that thrives
Under the relaxed way
I defer to ambiguity
Opt out of opinion sharing
Deflect additional responsibilities
That might require more substance
Than I feel like giving

Good old biology seems to suggested
A plausible, yet inconclusive protocol
For living

More research on the topic is indicated

Striking rubber from tired tractors
With pointed precision
Directed through a sledge hammer’s
Delicate touch
Has left a wake of pleasant discord
Tiding through the ambitious muscles
Who are aspiring to virtuosity
While avoiding the single minded focus
Of training efficiency
The age of button-downed neatness
And corporate pleasantries
Has given way to simple roots
Where beards and sweat
Find purpose in John Henry
And inspiration in the tall tales
Instead of green backs
Or the flash of a Miami Vice role modeling era
Each swing of the hammer
Requires a synchronization of spirit
That excels in the rhythm of work
Failing in the consequence of ego
Style,
Pomp.
The grip holds tightly
But loose enough to avoid the friction
Arresting the blisters caused by heat
And letting the meaningless mental boils
Pass through the handle
Meeting their fate in the thud
Of the peacefully violent collision
Between purpose and escape
Swing, thud, repeat
Until the breathing can stand no more
And sweat beads on the scraggly beard
A few thoughts enter,
My grandfather stopping work
To thump a watermelon just cut from the vine
My father tapping a Coke can
After carrying a couch solo to our new apartment
All honest work
With moments of calm
Like this moment the tire, sledge, and I are having
Just like my elders
There is more to be done
So back at it
It is