Telling folks I'm buddhist is always good for some mild entertainment. I try to reserve it for just the right moment in time or point in a relationship, preferably when humor will be welcome.
It's pretty funny, being buddhist.
Anyway, without killing that topic altogether in my usual rambling fashion, I'm cutting straight to the chase now because that rare-yet-invited thing known as 'work' is beckoning.
That's a real buddhist thing, you know: getting right to the meat of a discourse.
Oh, and that whole not-eating-meat thing? Not so true.
So this morning, I want to tell you about how I sometimes meditate. Not that I only sometimes
meditate. In fact, I meditate all the time. No, that's not why the incoming jobs have slowed to a crawl, though "the recession" has certainly been an incredible vehicle for emphasizing my practice. Meditation isn't what a lot of people think -- it's not always done sitting, it's not even always silent, and you don't have to close your eyes.
I call it "dishwashing zen" and I'm not the only one who does it. Google it. I didn't coin the term, but I'm glad it arose out of the muck of my brain cells before I read about it. Like a whole lot of other serendipitous life events, I think dishwashing zen is better when you stumble upon it, rather than seeking it.
Actively pursuing the results of zen is a lot like sweeping the driveway. I mean, it's OUTSIDE UNDER THE TREES. Of course, if you're my neighbor, Randy, you like doing that a lot.
Anyway, what I meant to say was that this morning, I want to tell you about How It Sometimes Is When I Meditate. Yes, I can think of a lot of other ways to say that more gracefully. But I plan on cutting to the chase here, and my Editor's timetable is often different from mine, since he doesn't have a crew of living things breathing down his neck, constant reminders of how little he's doing for them. You know, achieving a pleasant state of consciousness has got to come easier when you're life's like that... Me, I learned years ago from sister Martha and the other FOOs (Followers of Oprah) that the only time a mama can get any real peace is to be awake when nobody else is, whether that's at the beginning of the "day" or after they're all asleep.
So here's to reading and chanting before the sun. Except that I hardly ever do that, which reminds me of what I was going to write about this morning.
The problem now is that the work I mentioned earlier? It's done waiting on me. So are the dogs, the cat, and The Boy.
I'll be back.
It's pretty funny, being buddhist.
Anyway, without killing that topic altogether in my usual rambling fashion, I'm cutting straight to the chase now because that rare-yet-invited thing known as 'work' is beckoning.
That's a real buddhist thing, you know: getting right to the meat of a discourse.
Oh, and that whole not-eating-meat thing? Not so true.
So this morning, I want to tell you about how I sometimes meditate. Not that I only sometimes
I call it "dishwashing zen" and I'm not the only one who does it. Google it. I didn't coin the term, but I'm glad it arose out of the muck of my brain cells before I read about it. Like a whole lot of other serendipitous life events, I think dishwashing zen is better when you stumble upon it, rather than seeking it.
Actively pursuing the results of zen is a lot like sweeping the driveway. I mean, it's OUTSIDE UNDER THE TREES. Of course, if you're my neighbor, Randy, you like doing that a lot.
Anyway, what I meant to say was that this morning, I want to tell you about How It Sometimes Is When I Meditate. Yes, I can think of a lot of other ways to say that more gracefully. But I plan on cutting to the chase here, and my Editor's timetable is often different from mine, since he doesn't have a crew of living things breathing down his neck, constant reminders of how little he's doing for them. You know, achieving a pleasant state of consciousness has got to come easier when you're life's like that... Me, I learned years ago from sister Martha and the other FOOs (Followers of Oprah) that the only time a mama can get any real peace is to be awake when nobody else is, whether that's at the beginning of the "day" or after they're all asleep.
So here's to reading and chanting before the sun. Except that I hardly ever do that, which reminds me of what I was going to write about this morning.
The problem now is that the work I mentioned earlier? It's done waiting on me. So are the dogs, the cat, and The Boy.
I'll be back.
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