Living Today

Written: 5/11/25 10:10am

I find this poem to be a personal and spiritual exploration of what it truly means to live—not just to exist, but to be present, intentional, and self-connected.

This poem feels like a meditative awakening—awakening to inner desire—the soul’s quiet call to live more fully. Awakening to the body’s wisdom—how the natural world and simple moments communicate through the senses. Awakening to self-belief—remembering personal power and the ability to choose, act, and create. Seeing fear as a teacher—seeing challenges not as barriers, but as invitations to grow deeper roots and rise stronger into ourselves.

“Living Today” reflects a journey of inner reconnection—with self, with spirit, with purpose. A reminder that living is not a future destination, but a daily practice of showing up for oneself—with courage, softness, and the willingness to begin again. A gentle call inward—remembering that light and love begin inside of us. It’s about choosing, again and again, to rise, to deepen.

Today, I call upon myself to live.

To truly live.

What would I do if I heard the cry,

the deep yearning inside,

asking simply—to live?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it sitting still, in a chair or laying on the grass,

eyes open to sky and earth,

ears attuned to sounds of nature,

to the sounds and hum of civilization?

How do those sights and sounds move within my body?

Am I in that very moment,

attuned with my breath,

my touch, my sense of smell?

Am I in touch with the responses my body whispers back,

Am I listening?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it being stirred by an old workout video—bringing a flicker of fire inside whispering:

I want to commit to my health,

I want to be disciplined, and build strong habits—

for my well-being, for my independence as I age?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it remembering that I am indeed capable,

that I hold the power to shape and lead my life?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it remembering the fear that keeps me stagnant,

is in fact, comes forth as a teacher,

a teacher to help me deepen my roots,

to help me rise with greater strength,

to help me become again?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it taking my hand and guiding me back to wonder and playfulness?

Is it guiding me back to love and joyfulness?

Is it reminding me that I am crafted from something vast,

something magnificent?

Is it to help me connect back

to the light and love that resides in me—that is there for me, at any time?

What does living look like to me today?

Is it to jolt me back to remembrance?

Is it reminding me that I am indeed, boundless,

that I can become again and again?

To deepen. 

To rise.

To move forward.