In truth this feeling, this
weight, is hard to describe,
to articulate, like many
complex feelings that defy
the confinements of language.
But language is all I have in
this space of wrangling words,
so I shall describe that which I
am feeling, as others have also felt.
The feeling is, at once, the strange
mix of wanting this life so badly
but also wanting to walk away as
if it doesn’t matter, when it matters
all too much, but then all too little.
This is my odd little paradox
that may not make sense to you,
but maybe it does after all.
I dream of giving away this desire
for significance and living a
simple life like a Buddhist monk
tucked away in a Tibetan monastery
and devoted to a cause well
beyond the individual self of desire.
Or maybe seeking some mystical
seachange to another way of being
in the world that strikes the ringing
gong of authenticity and connection
with the substance of nature and being.
And yet, despite this wish for being
something else, or someone else,
I return to my work, to the goal
of being what I have often said
I really want to be after so long.
This is my troubling doubleness
that is a weird intimate companion,
a friend and foe who never leaves,
on this journey whose end has not yet
been determined but I feel its weight.