For Drifters

That’s the Oquirrh Mountain Range, as seen last weekend from my location in Salt Lake City. That’s Farnsworth Peak on the right, before the range drops off to The Great Salt Lake. That’s a lot of blue sky on a February morning in Utah.

For many years now I’ve been learning more deeply about such concepts as wander. And wonder. I’ve been learning more deeply about the nonlinear. And the unplanned. I’ve been learning about surprise. And delight. I’ve been learning about vibrant life available in the moment. The everything in the anything.

Yup. Pause. Big smile.

In my work with groups. I tend to point them to some of these capacities. I’m so often advocating and inviting a little more relationship with the mystery of it all. For the way that it opens new insights that change what we do and how we do it together.

Recently, such delights found way to a poem. At one level, it’s me truth-telling and claiming that part of myself that is drifter. It’s me coming to peace with that. And another level, it’s pronouncement or the very rounded life.


For Drifters

I will always be a drifter.

I’ll start things, many things.
I’ll finish some things, but won’t finish many.

I’ll get excited.
Yet sometimes, my excitement will wane, seemingly inexplicably.

I’ll be brilliant.
Yet sometimes, I may seem a bit lost, or even insecure.

Know that it is my drifting
that so often brings me to my steadiness.

Though drifting isn’t for everybody,
I want to surrender regularly to it’s beauty.

I will alway be a drifter.

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