Where The Game Is Played

The Western way

Is to try as hard as you can

Towards a goal

Grind

Unbearably hard

And never

Ever

Quit

And some day

You’ll ‘succeed’.

It’s the idea that we have to carve our path

Make our own way

And then

There is the Eastern way

To try

Without trying

To flow with the world

And how it’ll organically unfold

To you and for you

There is no raging against it

But an embrace of it

A surfing of the waves of life

It’s easy to see

How one way of being

Can inspire the technological boom

That happened in the west

And create

A constant state of

Anxiety

For its citizens

And it’s easy to see how

Flowing with life

And not raging against it

Can bring more peace of mind

But less

‘Progress’

Whatever ‘progress’ is

Do we rage against life,

In order to carve out

A piece

For ourselves–

A piece

We have ‘earned’?

Or do we flow with the tides of life?

Which is the way?

So many philosophies . . .

There isn’t enough time in the day

To find the best way

All the while

Days

Become memories

Passing us by

One at a time . . .

What is the best way for today?

Can anyone truly say?

Still,

Always,

Lost in the maze.

But it is in the search for a way out,

Where the game is played.