Friday Morning through a Purple Filter

And every time I exhale, I watch a cloud form in front of me. There are glimmers of blue and red in the light of the headlamp. It becomes very meditative: watching the cloud form again and again. Only, instead of thinking about peace and the effortlessness of a Buddhist life, I think about the Little Engine that Could and how it seems every moment is a struggle against stillness. Life itself a disruption, the workhorse of a universe that would much rather remain at rest.

Learning to Live with Things

The problem is, I’m thinking I need to purge again -to get control over all the “stuff” and clutter that is a disturbing white noise.

I imagine selling the house and moving into to a simple cottage, with a garden and a stream that flows just a stone’s throw from a sunny porch. I’ll get rid of all my costume jewelry and buy leather bracelets. Ditch the tailored clothes for paisley caftans.

I imagine a whole list of things I could acquire to successfully simplify my life. I could get up and leave.

Meditation Notes: 1

Pay attention to the breath, he says.

And I do. The breath, and the slowness that comes. The balance of wills: my will and that of the clay. Give and take. Inhale and exhale. My mind through my body, connected to the earth.

World Music

Mostly, I was thinking about cicadas. Along the trails outside of Boulder, Colorado in the States. In the trees lining the narrow roads of Perugia, Italy. Electric. There is something other-worldly about these creatures who leave their bodies whole behind ever seven years or so, clinging to the branches; and whose buzzing is so loud it pushes into your sleep. Home a week, and I hear them still.

Being Fine

When I exhale pain radiates down the length of my arms.
It’s stress.
And it’s comforting in a way, to feel it like this.
Concretely.
I almost believe I could grab hold of it, and pull it out my fingertips.
Strands of sharp tinsel.

In the Present

I was listening to a Radiolab podcast, and a scientist was explaining that there is no such thing as the present.

He compares time to the shoreline. The past is the sand, the future is the sea water. There is no line that is the present.This is all sort of screwing up my daily meditation.