Poem: Rituals

Rituals

Every day, you write.
Every day, you paint.
Every day, you pray.

Every day, feeling it or not, you eat, you meditate.
Every day, you make wise choices,
you hug your wife, pet the cat,

Every day you read.
The bible. A trashy novel.
The news.

These are rituals. Your rituals.
They corral your unruly mind,
at least for a while, long enough

to do the work
that matters.

About this poem.

I need habits more than most. For the past fifteen years, as the depression hit, my mind has been perpetually unruly. Only discipline keeps it going. Frankly, I wish I didn’t need my daily rituals. There was a time when discipline came naturally. Easily. Now it is unnatural and hard.

But effective. And I’ll take effective.

Dancing at the diner,

Tom

PS: The picture was taken in my studio.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s