Wednesday, February 9, 2011

More from the Dalai Lama

an extremely loud crow in the palm tree in my backyard


It is said that a real meditator never feels the lack of external
materials.

I lay in bed early, early this morning listening to the sprinklers go off and keep going off the valves clicking and the water rushing under the house and are we wasting this precious water is always what I think to water our gardens of flowers and green grass when we actually live in a desert so then I got up and sat, did my sitting, my meditation and the thoughts of what was coming that day kept coming in, insistent, the jewelry party I'm hosting and whether or not Sophie would be over her flu and ready for school and if so I wouldn't have to call a babysitter to come early since I'm going to a focus group this afternoon to talk about epilepsy and specifically rectal valium, the only reason because I get paid one hundred and twenty five dollars which basically would be enough to pay the babysitter so that I could go and Oliver has basketball tonight and what should I make for dinner because the cupboards are bare as mother would say.


5 comments:

  1. Again- Dalai Lama is amazing and a gift to this universe but he NEVER once in his life had to think of what to cook for dinner.

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  2. laughing at Ms Moon's comment. I often smile at the thoughts that fly through my mind when I'm sitting....

    back to the breath

    x..x

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  3. Been absent lately.Sorry.Stuff is consuming me ...

    I loved the family likeness post.All those pictures.Amazing.A few favorites for sure.All simply beautiful.

    Got the evite.Sure wish I were around the corner to pop in.Hoping we are still on for the 19th though.So need it.

    Aging.Won't even go there.I am the young mom with the 3 grown and the oh so ancient with the smaller sect.In light of the loss of so many of our little ones over the last 2 years,I am blessed to be aging.Perspective indeed.

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  4. I often try to trick those thoughts when I want to meditate by imagining that there is a river rushing by in front of me. Every thought becomes its own slip of paper and I toss it into the river and watch it wash downstream. Sometimes it works and sometimes I get a sore arm from chucking all of those thoughts away.

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