I am sure it is wonderful
As Loy Ching-Yuen suggests
To savor the ineffable

But me?
I can only savor the effable

My joy blooms
As I look at the sink
Full of those entirely effable
Dirty dishes

My joy blooms
Anticipating the pleasure
Of warm soapy water
And clean dishes

My satisfaction simmers
As I see the entirely effable disorder
Left by visiting honorary grandchildren

My satisfaction simmers
Anticipating the gentle work
Of picking up crayons and papers
Snacks and blankets
And sitting down
In an organized family room

My happiness surges
As I see the entirely effable bare dirt
In my herb garden 

My happiness surges
Anticipating the bent back work
Of planting and tending
Weeding and picking
With the sweet smells
Of herbs rising ever stronger
As spring becomes summer

And so the entirely effable
Becomes my own way
My own Tao
To the ineffable

What
I am prompted to wonder 
Solaces the dry places in my heart

I remember saying to Woody
Just last night
“Isn’t it wonderful when your favorite place in the world is your own home?”

So there’s that.
But then there is
Of course
Woody himself
Who tends my heart
As carefully as he tends
The rest of his garden

And there are my choir of women
Friends near and far
Who sing in harmony with my heart

Children and grandchildren
Neighbors and friends
(Even Facebook friends)
Poetry and novels
Crocheting and writing
Planning trips
Taking trips
Remembering trips
Contemplation and prayer
Quiet times with Mom
Arrogant cats and bouncy dogs
Water and mountains
Blue skies and storms
Sunrises and sunsets

It is much easier to answer
What disturbs my heart

War and pestilence
Power-hungry politicians and pompous priests 
Regretting too much
Fearing too much
Hurting too much
Forgetting metanoia
That glorious turning around
Away from should and can’t
Towards don’t have to and enough

Sink or swim.
Sink or swim, I tell myself.
Sink or swim. I tell myself to swim harder.
Sink or swim, I tell myself. To swim harder is all I learned.
Sink or swim. I tell myself to swim harder. Is all I learned enough to save me?
Sink or swim, I tell myself. To swim harder is all I learned, but it is not enough to save me.
Sink then, stop chattering, stop swimming, stop trying to save myself.
Just sink, to swim, effortlessly, in divine love.