For Those Who are Obsessed

By Shiloh Sophia

Those who are obsessed with silence  

Will find their days filled with incessant noise  

When we can hear the symphony in chaos  

The fugue of existence will invite us to be one of the players  


Those who are obsessed with perfection and order  

Will be hard pressed to collaborate with anyone  

Especially the wildly expressed who may not have order as a value  

Let those who desire order, and those who are in chaos, dance  


Those who are obsessed with their self image  

Will find envy at every turn, and friendships will be challenged  

Lovers will grow tired of reassurance and it will be difficult  

To ever be enough, without choosing to be enough, as we are  


Those who are obsessed with ceaseless self medicating  

Will find ordinary reality a bore, or worse, a battle to be fought  

There are many reasons to alter reality, beyond that of coping  

May we learn to discover pleasure where it lives, in presence  


Those obsessed with making everything on purpose  

Will be so busy turning mistake and disaster into karmic stories  

We will likely miss the wolf at the door and the boiled frog  

Can we see what there is, without making it a game of blame?  


Those obsessed with saving others are often the quizzical cases  

Hiding behind the desire to cure, judgement may be lurking  

Unbeknownst to ourselves, we have been inflicting ideas on another  

When we can love without the desire to convert, true friendship arises  


Those who are obsessed with living to the fullest  

May find we are disappointed with the mediocrity of laundry  

All the mundane tasks are seen as prevention from being  

When the fullest-ness available, is to inhabit being – or is it?  


Those who are obsessed with thinking we are in a battle  

Will find the time to sharpen our sword has passed  

The over-vigilance, while needed, wearies even the warrior  

May we sharpen for the work at hand, and soften for love making  


Those who are obsessed with dying a certain way  

May find themselves surprised when things do not go as planned  

Once again the great mystery throws another loop in her knitting  

Every death story will be different than the one you need to tell  


Those who are obsessed with control, and yet are good at it,  

Will be challenged again and again by failure and frailty  

Until suffering from unplanned outcomes alchemizes our direction  

We hope our practice, at least, has forged us into a strong guide  


Those who are obsessed with getting to another place, like heaven  

Will find we spend too much time fearing another place, like hell  

When all the while the people on the streets are sitting in circle singing,  

We missed it, because we wanted so much to be anywhere but here  


Those who are obsessed with the healing journey  

Will find there is indeed always something to heal  

When, if ever, will it be time to leap from the healing journey?  

Declare it is enough, we are healed enough for a new story  


Those who are obsessed with the opiate of poetry  

Will take strange comfort in narrating the terrors of our times  

Words will shake us from slumber to wield the pen, or else  

As if it is the most important moment of our lives, it might be  


It might be, that simply showing up for the conversation  

is enough for this life, this day, this minute, this very second  

The spell of being – being broken open in praise gives us a chance  

To experience being human and glory is unveiled in us  


Those who are obsessed with the light  

Will find themselves dodging shadows as if they are predators  

Those who are overly obsessed with shadows  

Will find there are many of us sitting beside you holding the light  


Those who are obsessed with sensitivity, protection, shielding  

Will find little comfort in the separation from this current crisis  

We feel it all anyway, and in our resistance become cloaked  

Does it matter if it is crisis or paradise ~ if we are made for this time?  


Those who support systems that condemn justice for all  

That rationalize the privatization of water and food and medicine  

Are hard to love, for those of us who value our life here on earth  

May we be brave enough to risk new friendships across the line  


When those who are obsessed with blaming  

Can forgive ourselves, and everyone, including the Creator  

Who we have been quietly blaming all along for this plan gone awry  

Then we can wake up to serve in the crisis happening in our neighborhood  


Those who are obsessed with avoiding the suffering of others  

Will find the suffering everywhere an impossible barrier to joy  

When we know that the paradox is the supple threshold of ecstasy  

Then we can hang on, and let go at the same time and be free  


Those who are obsessed with calling circles for everything Will find we are very busy in these last days dishing up meaning Breaking bread and pouring out the wine, while singing new and old songs May praise be found on our lips for all the goodness we have shared And if in the end we rage instead of surrender, so be it as long as we show up for that experience And if in the beginning we find ourselves where we started and know it newly, so be it Let’s not save our lives, let’s live them When we find the thing we would do if we had forever Is in harmony with the thing we would do, if we had only one day left Then we have arrived, and we will be welcomed home