i find myself sometimes avoiding beauty. i don’t want to be tempted, because surely i cannot have it.

the abundant, the lush, the easy, the boundless, the garden party, the salt-water pool, and the tropical holiday–clearly that belongs to someone else.

i am awake to the trance. the phobia and the scarcity. the scraping by and the shame. the second helping of sweet before it disappears forever.

i  simultaneously sit in gratitude and grace, while hungering and yearning for more. still maintaining an awareness of those that have so much less.

i look at my clean sheets, my full pantry, and my stack of unpaid bills. my 80 year old home with the self-consciously large yard.

i sit on the line of debt and greed. an open book of wanting and having. here and there.

what would it mean to leave this habit? to let go of the language of less-than and too-much? to invite you over despite the lack of garden furniture? could we just sit on a blanket?

can i have the simple loaf of bread, the humble cottage, and the daily walk to the pond? the boat in morocco? the spring break with hammocks and pineapple? the dusty floor and spiced tea? the scent of burning trash and plumeria blossoms? unlimited air miles and a sofa with forty-two inch deep cushions? a week of silence on a mountain top?

the forbidden, the enviable, the impossible bloom. self and other. imposter and real deal. confusion and clarity. illusion and reality. imbalance and equanimity. irony and indulgence.

these are the things i think about this morning. the weight on my shoulders and the pinch in my gut. the burdens i will lay down after i drink my coffee, check facebook, and remind myself to breathe.