When you don’t know what to say, say something in the length of a breath.
Reductionists want to reduce our actions down to one reason. They want to sell the idea that you walk funny because of your dinner. But our actions, our habits, have a whole world of reasons, a whole history of them.
Landscapers trim the grass border, while father and son are walking to the bus stop. Geese! flood the sky
here i am delivering my personal sutta: my life, my values, my traditions, and as it turns out, i’m the only one listening
Could it be that I have pushed away pain and sorrow and failure to the point that I have nothing to gain? That I have dumbly succeeded and that is what drives my misery now. This normal ho-hum day cycling on and on and on. I can feel it, this cycle, I know it exists and that I exist within it, but I cannot see the whole of it. I feel it in my bones, in my tendons, ligaments, and muscles. This habitual energy flows through me. I’ve worked so hard to proliferate this endless bloom.
Like many others on the blogs I follow I have been submitting my writing to publishers. In the push to get some of my work published I’ve come across some of the familiar, old, reliable doubts and fears of mine and a couple of insights that I thought would be cool to share.
I’m just throwing incendiaries into the dark, to light this place up, hoping to catch a picture of what’s really going on.
To turn a fellow bloggers phrasing, had an Odd Driving Thought today… (the link is there, so you should go check him out)
Today’s productivity is the results of yesterday’s Focus, willingness to adapt the routine, and care and attention for the present moment. I’d better put it to good use.
And the poem that followed…
Today I’m feeling rather productive in my productionlessness. My boss, however, disagrees.
Standing in line for Santa. . . Choruses of Santa can hear you ribbon to the edge and the passerby looks over shoulder hurriedly on his way.
We whisper into the early morning hour out of respect for the dying night