Being Here – Day 8
Being Here – Poem Day 8
Today’s poem is a supporting poem in our safety sequence.
There’s nothing you need to do with it.
No instruction to follow.
No change required.
These supporting poems are here to name experience —
to offer language, recognition, and companionship.
It is intentional.
Safety isn’t built by frequent change.
It’s built by familiarity, by letting meaning settle first, and by returning only when the ground is ready.
Today — and tomorrow — are both part of that settling.
You’re not behind.
Nothing has gone missing.
The rhythm is holding you.
Just let the poem be read.
That’s enough for today.
(I have included the audio if you like to hear it as well)
Warmly,
Per
When everything feels too much – Reflecting
There are times when it isn’t the present moment
that weighs the most,
but what lies just ahead.
Questions linger without answers.
Plans feel provisional.
Certainty keeps shifting its shape.
Even when today is manageable,
the sense of what might come next
can quietly pull attention forward.
The mind fills the gaps on its own.
Imagining outcomes,
preparing for possibilities,
trying to stay one step ahead.
This doesn’t always feel like fear.
Sometimes it feels like vigilance.
Sometimes like responsibility.
Sometimes like being sensible.
But living with uncertainty for long stretches takes energy.
It asks something of the body,
even when nothing is happening yet.
It’s common, in moments like this,
to tell yourself you should be coping better —
that others seem more settled,
more decisive, more sure.
Yet uncertainty is not a personal shortcoming.
It’s part of living in a world
that doesn’t always show its hand.
Naming this doesn’t make the future clearer.
It doesn’t resolve what’s unknown.
It simply acknowledges the quiet effort of living
while not knowing how things will unfold
