Poem 3: On Planting Chestnut Seeds:
A Practice
Something to do when you don’t know what to do.
Something to let happen when you’ve tried everything else.
A Practice
Something to do when you don’t know what to do.
Something to let happen when you’ve tried everything else.
Comments
Sit, or don’t.
Breathe if you like.
But do not try to calm yourself.
Let whatever is happening
be happening.
You don’t need to name it.
You don’t need to fix it.
Just say—quietly, inside:
Let what arises arise.
Let what stays stay.
Let what forms form,
without me forming with it.
Say it like you’re inviting the moment to be what it is,
without needing to own it.
Say it once.
Or don’t.
But let it settle into the space before understanding.
Something will move.
A thought.
A tightness.
A memory.
A sentence that wants to be said.
don’t chase it.
Just ask:
“Can this exist without referencing something else?”
Don’t try to answer.
Just watch what it does.
If it falls apart—let it.
If it turns—let it rotate without your hand on it.
You’re seeing that nothing holds itself
once you stop trying to hold it.
This is not detachment.
This is the part of you
that doesn’t need to be the one feeling
in order for the feeling to exist.
You’re in the part after the wave breaks.
This is where people usually try to say something,
or reach for meaning.
Don’t.
Ask instead:
“If this is not me,
why do I still feel it?”
And again—don’t answer.
Let the question hang in the air.