Liberation

 since way back when i felt inadequate, wherewithal-less

- not that i would have called it that back then -

so i set about finding people, things

that might adequatise me because

god forbid the shame of being less than

whatever the fuck late-stage capitalism

and the spiritual marketplace

tell us we should be.

 

on one particular day, not so long ago

i began to feel how much energy

had got tied up in trying to overcome this,

to this’s detriment, and how the overcoming

shamed this, so terribly,

this being the inadequacy, the lacking-ness.

 

this does feel wholly inadequate according to

whatever parameters might be applied, and for so long

i was in thrall to the idea that

something needed to be done about it

(i’m so glad i don’t believe that any more).

 

this (me? i don’t really know any more) feels utterly inadequate,

wholly lacking in all areas, totally without wherewithal -

not that that’s being claimed as a badge of honour,

or paraded in a look-at-me kind of way.

 

this inadequacy – i saw that day – never needed me

to take it on or pick up its cudgel or

attempt to correct it or overcome it or

better myself out of it or

love it or accept it or or or

take it to any number of healers or

self-described spiritual teachers or anyone else

who fell under the category of

people i thought were superior to me

to do with it whatever their schtick was (frankly,

all the schticks left it untouched, save

for feeling a little worse still,

having supped at their supposedly superior cup).

 

that day, it was a monumental relief to say:

this just is breathtakingly inadequate and

totally lacking in wherewithal (and

any other kinds of -withal there might be)

and right now,

i fucking love it,

not with some sappy welcome-it embrace-it love-it gloss

but with a sweating-in-the-mosh-pit,

too many beers and smudged mascara kind of love

that wants everyone (including me)

to keep their (possibly) well-meaning but

otherwise very misguided hands off it.

 

and that day this – my – inadequacy had never felt so good or

so real or so alive or so glorious, because that

was all it had ever wanted,

and it was such a liberation to repeat, on and on,

utterly inadequate and totally lacking in wherewithal,

and with each repetition

my body sighed and smiled and

i began to fit into myself like never before,

a yes throughout my being at the truth of this

and a wonder at how it is to be real.