Often, I save a thought on my phone app–Notes–a momentary capture of worth, what I believe to be untouchable in me. Sometimes, I work too hard at becoming my notes.
I wear this label or that identity, rage in righteousness, or lose myself in hopelessness, forgetting where hope resides.
In those times, I pull on a suit of positivity or dress-to-type, any kind of armor to disguise who resides within.
And I’m so good at it, too, but whatever I cling to falls away, and whatever I run from returns. Seasons, stages, events never stay. They are experiences, a collage of moments on the app of existence, endless in its offerings.
Pema Chödrön taught me about my “basic wealth,” what withstands the storms of my life. It is ever enough. At first glance that seems so little, enough, yet who I am is with me all my life.
I smile at my notes on my phone app. I know I will not stop wearing labels or raging against injustice but in their impermanence is the eternity of existence. And for me, that is enough.