I’m trying to write, but everything is coming out all poetry. And I’m like, really? Why now? After all these years?

A part of me thinks that I need to be serious. There is some crazy shit going down in our world right now. And as a woman, I feel an urgency to raise my voice. Speak up. Speak out.

But I’m tired of being serious.

So, fuck it. Poetry it is.

But, Robin, people will laugh. Who wants to read poetry? And didn’t this start off as your blog? Who wants to read poetry on a blog? People want think pieces! Political commentary! Your thoughts about Buddhism. Your thoughts on feminism and bringing down the patriarchy! No? Well, maybe your thoughts about design and technology and the bizzarro world that is the Bay Area! Oh dear…there are so many about that already.

Well, okay. Maybe…just…a few lines of poetry. But that’s it!

Why would anyone meditate?

To relieve stress.

To relieve anxiety.

To learn how to relax. To slow…down.

To breathe. In. Out. In. Out.

One. Two. Three.

To get rid of thoughts. No. Wait, that’s not possible…

To work with thoughts. Yes, ok. maybe.

Why is this so hard? Why do I have so many thoughts? Why can’t I stop thinking?

What is this about? What am I doing here?

This is stupid. I’m stupid. I’m so stupid.

Ohmygod, I don’t really think I’m stupid.

Oh, honey. My sweet mind. My poor soul. I’m so sorry. Wow. I had no idea I was this hard on myself. I’m so, so hard on myself.

Let’s try again.

In. Out. Breathe…

Tears. Sadness. Sorrow. I had no idea. This sorrow. It’s not just my sorrow. Oh god.

I am an open book. Raw. I trust everyone. And I burn. My body burns. My heart burns. I am no one. I am everyone. I am…I’m not sure.

This is so difficult. And I had no idea. Just how hard this would be. How eye-opening. How heart-breaking.

I am meditating.

Am meditating.

Meditating.

Meditating?

Why would anyone meditate?

Relax. Let go.

(What I'm listening to right now: A$AP Rocky ft. Moby. Don't you know, rap is poetry?)