In the land of all and nothing,
discrimination is the only weapon I have
to protect myself,
to separate the fine food from the foul fodder
to determine how each minute will count or be lost
to the demands and opinions of the day.
I have the power to decide what to catch
what to keep and what to release
what to nurture and what to abandon
to its own resources.
As I sit still and silent with the hillside of honeyed stone
and see that it is unmoved, unchanged and
unable to make a choice,
I consider the value in being indiscriminate,
in letting forces beyond your control
have their way with me–
lead me up steep hills I don’t want to climb;
sadden me with changes I don’t want to happen;
burden me with work I don’t want to do.
In performing these unwanted labors I find
that I grow more strong and less certain of my ability to choose,
resilient like the ancient cliff that meets
the summer sun and winter snow
with equal acceptance.
