Maybe
it’s autumn and the stirring of leaves, a warm wind blowing out of the
south one day, a cool, damp wind blowing out of the north the next. Or maybe it’s
living on the prairie, knowing winter will surely come to freeze us temporarily
in place. Whatever the reason, my wild horse mind is restless—zigzagging,
stomping at the ground, rearing up. My time on the cushion lately is an exercise
in REINING IN. It feels like this:
The
candles should be further back.
Come
back…
The
shadows on the crystal lotus make it look like an Area 51 alien.
Come
back…
Trees.
Druids. Did Druids meditate?
Come
back…
I
should think about not thinking.
Come
back…
Venison
roast and fingerling potatoes for dinner?
Come
back…
The
dog’s breathing is more settled than mine. He meditates. He doesn’t have to TRY
to meditate.
Come
back…
Shoes
in the dryer. Tympani.
Come
back…
Papers
to grade. Laundry. Work on the literary project stuff. Dishes. Blogs for class.
Where are my blue socks? Do I still have those blue socks?
Come
back…
Stay…
love it.
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