A Pleasure Practice

Lutzie
Lost In Forestville

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A mindfulness practice to root in present awareness. A gratitude practice to devine deeper appreciation. A discomfort practice to distill comfort within discomfort. A mettā practice to embrace acceptance in loving-kindness.

Might a pleasure practice add a missing umami to the love of life?

I wish for a saturated and nuanced pleasure, a prismatic charge

A rendered life in its moments of beauty and horror and buoyancy and hollow

The pleasure, substance of life

How might I…

enjoy it all just a little more?

I know the pleasure of devouring emblematic joy,

Lost in moments of emerald laughter and nectared passion

Taste of combustion, electricity and salt

The pleasure of slipping into silvery flow,

Vibrational hum and viscous slicks,

Of and then and then, and then, and then…

The pleasured stillness of cerulean contentment,

Of drifting gold, filtered light, snap of twig

Shifting meandering subtlety, perfect exactly as it is, as it is, as it is…

How might I learn to find pleasure in all the shades of fiery scarlet and ashy sediment…

Sanitary voids, shadowed doubt

Acidic jealousy, placid melancholy

Cumbered sorrow, dolorous rue

Metallic fray fraught in caustic discord

Thick pull of clay in vacuums of discontent

How might I, how might I, how might I…

Enjoy it all. Just a little more.

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