Maybe I’ve mentioned how much I love Portland a time or two. One of the things I love is the preponderance of sidewalk poems encased in plexiglass and, in the case of the poem below, churched up with all kinds of flare.

A few weeks ago I came across these words on a Sunday afternoon walk and it reminded me to simply be here. Curious. Open. Willing give truth the space it needs to reveal itself.

When I feel lost, it says to me, stand still for a beat or ten. I will discover that I am already here.

Lost

Stand still. The trees ahead and bushes beside you

Are not lost. Wherever you are is called Here,

And you must treat it as a powerful stranger,

Must ask for permission to know it and be known.

The forest breathes. Listen. It answers.

I have made this place around you.

If you leave it, you may…