<html><head><meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html charset=utf-8"></head><body style="word-wrap: break-word; -webkit-nbsp-mode: space; -webkit-line-break: after-white-space;" class=""><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="-webkit-font-kerning: none;" class="">Second Life<br class=""><br class=""></span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="line-height: normal; -webkit-font-kerning: none;" class=""><br class="">
</span><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">My uncourageous life<br class="">
doesn’t want to go, <br class="">
doesn’t want to speak, <br class="">
doesn’t want to carry on, <br class="">
wants to make its way<br class="">
through stealth, <br class="">
wants to assume<br class="">
the strange and dubious honor<br class="">
of not being heard.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">My uncourageous life<br class="">
doesn’t want to move<br class="">
doesn’t even want to stir, <br class="">
wants to inhabit<br class="">
a difficult form<br class="">
of stillness, <br class="">
to pull everything<br class="">
into the silence<br class="">
where the throat strains<br class="">
but gives no voice.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">My uncourageous life<br class="">
wants to stop<br class="">
the whole world<br class="">
and keep it stopped<br class="">
not only for itself<br class="">
but for everyone<br class="">
and everything it knows, <br class="">
refusing to stir even a single inch<br class="">
until given an exact<br class="">
and final destination.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">This uncourageous<br class="">
second life wants to win<br class="">
some undeserved lottery<br class="">
so that it can finally<br class="">
bestow a just and final<br class="">
reward upon itself.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">No, this second life<br class="">
never wants to write<br class="">
or speak, or cook<br class="">
or set the table<br class="">
or welcome guests<br class="">
or sit up talking<br class="">
with a stranger<br class="">
who might accidentally<br class="">
set us traveling again.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">This second life<br class="">
doesn’t want<br class="">
to leave the door, <br class="">
doesn’t want<br class="">
to take any path<br class="">
that works its own<br class="">
sweet way<br class="">
through mountains, <br class="">
doesn’t want<br class="">
to follow<br class="">
the beckoning flow<br class="">
of a distant river<br class="">
nor meet<br class="">
the chance weather<br class="">
where a pass<br class="">
takes us<br class="">
from one discovered<br class="">
world<br class="">
to another.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">This second life<br class="">
just wants to lie down;<br class="">
close its eyes<br class="">
and tell God<br class="">
it has a headache.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">But my other life<br class="">
my first life, <br class="">
the life I admire<br class="">
and want to follow<br class="">
looks on and listens<br class="">
with some wonder, <br class="">
and even extends<br class="">
a reassuring hand<br class="">
for the one holding back, <br class="">
knowing there can be<br class="">
no real confrontation<br class="">
without the need<br class="">
to turn away<br class="">
and go back<br class="">
away from it all, <br class="">
to have things<br class="">
be different, <br class="">
and to close our eyes<br class="">
until they<br class="">
are different.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">No, <br class="">
this hidden life, <br class="">
this first courageous life, <br class="">
seems to speak<br class="">
from silence<br class="">
and in the language<br class="">
of a knowing, <br class="">
beautiful heartbreak, <br class="">
above all<br class="">
it seems to know<br class="">
well enough<br class="">
it will have<br class="">
to give back<br class="">
everything received<br class="">
in any form<br class="">
and even, sometimes, <br class="">
as it tells the story<br class="">
of the way ahead, <br class="">
laughs out loud<br class="">
in the knowledge.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">This first life seems<br class="">
sure and steadfast<br class="">
in knowing<br class="">
it will come across<br class="">
the help it needs<br class="">
at every crucial place<br class="">
and thus continually<br class="">
sharpens my sense<br class="">
of impending<br class="">
revelation.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">This first<br class="">
courageous life<br class="">
in fact, has already<br class="">
gone ahead<br class="">
has nowhere to go<br class="">
except<br class="">
out the door<br class="">
into the clear air<br class="">
of morning<br class="">
taking me with it, <br class="">
nothing to do<br class="">
except to breathe<br class="">
while it can, <br class="">
no way to travel<br class="">
but with that familiar<br class="">
pilgrim<br class="">
movement in the body, <br class="">
nothing to teach except<br class="">
to show me<br class="">
on the long road<br class="">
how we sometimes<br class="">
like to walk alone, <br class="">
open to the silent revelation, <br class="">
and then stop and gather<br class="">
and share everything<br class="">
as dark comes in, <br class="">
telling the story<br class="">
of a day’s accidental<br class="">
beauty.</span></p><p style="margin: 0px 0px 18px; line-height: normal;" class=""><span style="font-kerning: none" class="">And perhaps<br class="">
most intriguingly<br class="">
and most poignantly<br class="">
and most fearfully of all<br class="">
and at the very end<br class="">
of the long road<br class="">
it has travelled, <br class="">
it wants to take me<br class="">
to a high place<br class="">
from which to see, <br class="">
with a view looking back<br class="">
on the way we took<br class="">
to get there, <br class="">
so it can have me<br class="">
understand myself<br class="">
as witness<br class="">
and thus<br class="">
bequeath me<br class="">
the way ahead, <br class="">
so it can teach me<br class="">
how to invent<br class="">
my own disappearance<br class="">
so it can lie down at the end<br class="">
and show me, <br class="">
even against my will, <br class="">
how to undo myself, <br class="">
how to surpass myself: <br class="">
how to find<br class="">
a way<br class="">
to die<br class="">
of generosity.</span></p><div class=""><span class="Apple-tab-span" style="white-space:pre"> </span>- David Whyte</div></body></html>