
#
Stop confusing it with expectation.
You’re going to be disappointed,
resentful, angry, pissed off at God
because the cancer didn’t disappear,
you didn’t get that new job you wanted,
Hurricane Hattie flooded your basement.
#
(Write this down: Don’t hope for anything
you can see, hear, touch, smell, or taste.)
#
And even if you do get to come home
from the hospital a day early,
or the car coming right at you swerves
away at the last saving second,
or your friend’s stock tip pays off enough
to finance an Aruba vacation,
please, please, please don’t proclaim to the world
how God in His goodness answered your prayers.
You’re only setting yourself up for
future resentment, not to mention
guilt and shame for having somehow displeased
His Royal Holy Hood.
#
Instead, divest, dismantle, ditch, doff, dump
expectations, anticipations, wishes.
Take a deep breath, and go for a walk
along that path you’ve been walking all
your life. Don’t worry about what’s ahead
—Here be dragons, right?—
but have a seat on this old tree stump.
Take more deep breaths, turn, look back
at all those times when, despite all your
mistakes, your blindness to injustice,
your embracing each Seven Deadly Sin
as if your happiness depended on it
while breaking all Ten Commandments
like you were making a hash omelet,
times when, despite your screwed-up family,
the hereditary overbite,
hip dysplasia, and weak heart,
times when despite the ugly divorce,
your daughter’s even uglier death,
all those goddamn operations,
the loss of lung capacity and libido,
you love the woman you wake up next to,
you sing to Sirius FM’s ‘Fifties Gold,’
you savor your morning hot chocolate,
you look forward to lunch with old classmates,
you feed the birds, play the banjo, plant
a garden, enjoy Wordle and Brit Box,
worshiping in silence, dabbling in poetry,
watching the grandchildren grow up.
#
Hope is not about getting what you want,
it’s about seeing what you already have,
the force that makes life worth living,
that same power that is pushing new growth
from this dead tree stump you’re sitting on.
#
Now, go get those dragons!

Great substantial food for thought!
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this is perfect, Rick and deeply beautiful
thank you!
Beth
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Rick, I absolutely love this poem. May I read it at Contemplative Silence this afternoon?
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Hi from Cousin E…I like the idea that we identify the dragons…well said.
>
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Amazing! So on target for me at 87. May I share this? At midlife when working with a Spiritual Director with my dreams, the dragon in them claimed to be my friend. On a vacation I became somehow determined to find a dragon replica in the shops. I saw many in different shops, but somehow knew they weren’t my dragon. Then knew immediately when I saw a small pewter dragon that it was mine. When I got it home and looked closer, it was lying down happily picking its teeth with a sword and had a knight’s helmet under one foot, It took me a while to get the message that the hero was within, not without. And that the whole fairy tale of a perfect life or perfection of any kind was an illusion.
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I’m honored that you’d like to share my musings. Great story. We have a son and a granddaughter who were both born in the year of the dragon, so we’re rather partial to them ourselves.
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