THE SHACKLES OF THE SELF

Born to a Father-less Father
who worried all his life
about not enough money,
and the Jew-haters of the world
who might be coming after him,

I inherited his worrisome nature
even though I earned enough money
and firmly kept all Jew-haters at bay.
I learned how to let go of all worry
when I learned how to meditate.
I find the discipline of practice
monumentally difficult—my mental
monkey chatter will just not shut up.

Focusing on the movement of my breath
quiets the noise of my ongoing stories.
I can’t stop thinking, but I learned to detach
myself from my flow of recurring thoughts.
The more time I do my sitting
the more deeply quiet I become.

Now:
II wake up every morning,
have a cup of coffee, read
the morning paper, and go
to work—aware I don’t exist.
I learned my sense of self
is a matter of selfdeception.
All I am is a mess of blood
and bones enveloped in skin.
If I pay attention to who
I really am, my self-image
vanishes—arms, legs, breath
and thought disappear.
The practice of meditation
allows me to reach for the stars—
letting go of who I think I am
by breathing with awareness.
I get a glimpse of nothingness
as I skirt around the great void—

my boundary-less soul
soars through the cosmos
on the energy of love.
My goal in meditating is simply
to remind me how to live like a God
in my daily life—mindful, kind
and compassionate in my behavior.
I forget how to worry.