Nicer Things

from Out With Lanterns, a daily poetry practice

I tell myself nicer things these days.
It has taken decades, but I am so much 
gentler on myself than I used to be.
Where did I learn to be so harsh? 
The answer contains multitudes.
But this morning as I warmed my oatmeal,
I thought: So much of what I do now 
undoes what I was taught.
They said: Get it right. Work, work.
Go harder. Get more. Push. 
I say: Get it wrong. Breathe.
Tread lightly. Buy less. Go slow. 
These days I try to float. 
I am a tree trunk on the ocean,
bobbing sometimes, sometimes very still. 
Washed ashore, dragged under, popping out again.
Like the surfer on the radio this morning
who said that she rode a 50-foot-wave  
until it pulled her 50 feet below the surface. 
“As I was churning under all that water,
instead of panic,” she said, “I told myself, 
‘I live for this. This is what I love.’” 
See? She told herself nicer things 
and came right back up for air.

Photo by Tim Marshall on Unsplash