The socks await each other.

The lone earring, returned from France without its partner

Sits in the bowl by my bed without purpose.


I wake every morning and one of my first thoughts,

Whether remnants of a dream through which I just passed

Or of that past waking life,

Is of my partner with whom I paired my Self —

Gone. Living a life I will never know when I’d thought I’d know it all.


“Jennifer New, you are a do-er,” my friend Sarah said to me,

Not with anything like judgement but with simple observation.

And yet I felt a sting.  A small voice:  “I want to be a be-er.”


Repose. Recline. Rekindle. Reinvigorate. Renew.


I make lists of my work:  Work I’ve committed to, work I want to do.

And it’s too much–each list a dissertation in its own right.

That is clear, even to me, the one who tries to do it all.

What if you add rest to each list? a friend suggests.


Yoga: to yoke, to bring union to the two parts —

Breath and body, spirit and physical, masculine and physical.

Do-er and Be-er.

Re-pair that which is out of balance and make whole.


This being is harder than it looks. Squint and you’ll miss it.

For those of us who wake to the aching of this world–

Yesterday’s shootings, everyday’s shrinking forests–

There is a hurryupandosomething urgency that screams for doing and more doing,

Bold-faced, capitalized, non-stop doing.


Repair begins here (I place one hand on my heart and the other on my belly).

Repair begins with sitting still long enough to listen with kindness.


The other earring that fell off somewhere in France is living its own life

I hope it’s one of coffee and pastis, of art and conversation.

The one here in the bowl will rest until a new purpose emerges.


Perched on the edge of Sunday, it is so tempting to start a list,

To plan a project that will sit shamefully semi-finished.

Harder to go to the pool and read a book

That is what I am do-ing.