The Lighter Shades of Feeling Gray
It looks like you won’t achieve enlightenment today, after all
Which is disappointing
Because you would like to be a fully formed, slightly-radiant Being. With perfect skin — is that too much to ask? — and a serene freshly-baked-cookies kind of smile.
You imagine, once you achieve enlightenment, your mind will be full, your word choice — floorless, your insight — peerless.
More than a perspiring writer — you will divinely unite with all split infinitives.
You will transcend annoying things, including but not limited to: finding your car keys, figuring out why the audio on the map-app won’t talk, and parallel parking.
After penning this list, you have an unpleasant personal epiphany
That you are swimming in the dim-lit, shallow end of the enlightenment pool, thrashing in a puddle of your own self-absorption.
You retrace the mis-steps in your mind
You need to talk with someone who is not afraid to be alone with you in the dark. So you walk to a sunny park to see your Shadow.
The very definition of dark edges, she says to you sternly, “Did you actually put GET ENLIGHTENED on your ‘to-do’ list?”
“I don’t recall,” you say sheepishly. (When you do achieve enlightenment, your mind will be far less forgettable).
“‘But I know one thing for certain,” you add.
“For most of my life, the message: YOU MUST ALWAYS DRIVE TO BE PERFECT has loomed on my pre-frontal cortex, like an overbearing freeway sign.”
“But now, this new sign surges — urgently, like bright bulbs bursting in flashes of mass extinction — blinding me with: SERIOUSLY? SHOULDN’T WE ALL BE MORE ENLIGHTENED THAN THIS, BY NOW?”
Which makes you wonder: Is there that much of a difference between driving to be perfect and needing to feel enlightened? Because you were hoping to evolve here, a little.
Your path meanders through a grove of Redwoods
Where your Shadow drapes her dimly-lit arm over your tensely-knit shoulders.
“It’s okay. We all go through dark spells,” she assures you.
You roll your neck and reply with a sigh.
“Seeing in black and white only seems to make things simpler,” she adds.
“I feel overwhelmed,” you admit, leaning your head on your Shadow’s shoulder.
“Turning into polarity won’t make you light,” she warns, as you struggle with your spectrum.
“Dismal times,” you add. “I guess I secretly believed we would live in an enlightened world one day, without you know, having to build it.”
Feeling a fraction better, you bless your Shadow lightly
“Come join me under a tree,” she calls, losing herself there, completely.
And seeing that you can’t make it alone, weary of trying to be somewhere you are not, you let another’s kindness call you home.
Sheltered — in this evergreen affection — layers of red-cedar-feathers dapple you into a lighter shade of gray.
As you air-scroll your to-do’s by fingertip.
Lighten up.
Dig deeper.
You don’t have to be perfect today.
Just a shade kinder.
