Meditation to Slow it Down

Today’s a good day to Slow It Down.

Breathe in.  Forget  it’s Monday. And forget about

everything you didn’t do Last Week

or the Week Before or The Week Before That.

Breathe Out. Still early.  Still Monday.

Nothing you HAVE to DO except read two

manuscripts and pack.  And go to the dentist.

Breath In.  You can read the manuscripts

Another Day.  Breathe Out.  Forget out packing.

You have everything you need upstate.

Breathe In.  What about the piles of books

you were going to take months ago to Housing Works?

Breathe Out.  They’ll still be around in September.

Breathe In.  The manuscripts can be read any time.

Breathe Out.  Not much you can do about the dentist.

And besides you love her.  It won’t be bad.  Breathe In.

Maybe you can meditate in the dental chair.  Breathe Out.

Probably not.  Breathe In.  Slow it all down.  Forget about everything

you weren’t able to forget.  Doesn’t matter.  Breathe Out.

Imagine that it’s Monday and you’re sitting on a rock

on the island of Patmos.  You’ve got one of those beautiful

Greek wine glasses  next to you. And a bottle of cold white wine.

And a book. Not the Illiad.  Not the Odyssey either.  Maybe

short stories by Isaac Singer.  Breathe In.  You don’t have

to write a book to read one.  Breathe Out.  But you could

write a book if you wanted to.  Just not today.

 

Esther Cohen
Let me tell you why I'm here, and why I hope you'll join me. I am here to poem, to play with words, to tell stories when I can, and to ask you for yours. Words are what I love, how I see, and what I say. Words are how I know my life, and how I find my friends. I'm here to ask you to join me. Right here. To send me your stories, and your poems. And to read mine when you can.

6 Comments

  1. Hits the spot.
    Starts out like typical pseudo-yoga breathe shmeathe relax cause I say so simple minded self-help drivel, but…

    moves on thanks to the endearingly common foibles and ambitions that we breathe all day all our adult lives. The breathe in breathe out handle becomes your own. By the end I’m smiling with cringed eyebrows. You have won me over! I could write a book about this if I wanted to.
    -Zev

  2. Never saw Issac Singer before. Always Isaac Belshevis Singer. …His brother I.J. Singer was a better writer. Also Chaim Grade.
    Read them first. then breathe out.

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