With No Agenda

With no agenda:

as for me, I just found myself with a wish to drop it all — no longer the host of labels long collected, with little need to know myself as anything more than simply being. Everything still belonged, life continuing exactly as before. But now I run, without being a runner. I meditate for just this moment on the cushion, no promise of anything more. I write with no agenda, little concern for any meaning I may offer — I simply like the sound ofwords.

this is the ease of being, nothing sacrificed to be anything other than what I am right now. I won’t give it further labels. Of course life still brings complications, and often I am lost again in the details of the world, a quick forgetting of myself as I participate in life’s demands. But I never truly become anything, nothing sticks past the moment that it happens. It’s a nice taste of freedom, knowing that life will be exactly as it is without control from me, that I don’t have to maintain a certain role, or uphold an image or a label.

it’s enough to be.

even more, it’s all I ever truly am — being, an aspect of life that’s dynamic in expression. What could I possibly add to this? And why would I bother? Identity is a heavy weight to carry through the world, and brings little in the way of true joy. At some point, through no effort, nor will of my own, I simply lost track of…