I’m not a poet or trying to be. I just scribble things down sometimes that have a certain feel to them. Having cleared that up, this is a “poem” I found in an old journal with the date March 1999 next to it. That year I was having a hard time making ends meet while I was trying to transition out of my full time job/old life and into Yoga. I was teaching Yoga anywhere and anytime to anyone I could, managing a retail shop inside a gym part time, living off of mung beans and rice, and couch surfing because I couldn’t afford rent in San Diego at the time, and I had a lot of friends with available couches. Looking back, it was a pretty great year…


There are some things we are not to know,

and though we’ll ask, we’ll not be told.

Your sworn soul mate might not be the one,

the man you raised might not be your son.

And though you’ll wonder, you’ll never know

how these mysteries will unfold.

Your worst enemy might become your friend.

Your final breath might not be the end.

And though you’ll ask, you’ll not be told,

because there are some things we are not to know.



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