Journey to Your Deepest Self

Potluck

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Oh! There I go again…
Thinking that there’s no place, in the world,
Where I fit in.
Where is my true home?
Where should I live?
How far must I travel before I find my people, my town?
There I go again…
Down the road of tears and fears
About being alone and what is wrong with me
That I don’t fit in anywhere?

So I ask myself,
“Well, what do you bring to the table?
What do you have to offer?”
I look at the tray I am holding
Across my arms,
Which lay softly upon my lap.
I am bringing radishes and cucumbers
To the table.
Without any dressing-just plain.
Not even any salt or pepper.
Who will want these?
I want to be the bringer of the best salad
On the table. Dressed with a dressing
That everyone wants the recipe for.
I want to be surrounded by admirers
Looking hungrily between me and my salad
And I want to say, “I’m sorry. Only I have this most
Special recipe and it is so secret and so special
That no one else can ever make it again.
Except me. I am the one. I want to be
The most popular.
That is the road I have travelled when I’ve wanted to fit in.
Cucumbers and radishes, though,
Are what I want-
And so I bring them.

Without dressing,
Many people will pass them by unless
They are denying themselves something else—
What they really want.
Many won’t even see me
In the whirling , glitter of fancier dishes.

Someone, like me, though,
May pick up a crisp, cool cucumber stick,
Beaded with tiny drops of it’s own water.
And that someone may notice how simple,
Clean and authentic –how
True, the cucumber tastes.
How refreshing! How, like a cucumber!
How snappy-spicy the radishes. How
They wake up an old memory of late spring in
Your grandmother’s garden…

So what about fitting in?
What about finding home?
I am home, the only place for me,
The moment I awaken to my own private pleasure,
In radishes or anything,
And become the most popular person
To me.
And what I bring is simple
Clean and authentic.
True.

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