Good morning and love to all of you. Jean, I'm especially thinking of you and hoping your sadness lifts. Remember that everything changes: the little Zen calligraphic sign on my desk says so!
Please think of me over the next few days as I travel back to my parents' home to deal with my mother's personal things, and do final tasks about her death with my father. I know there are going to be some hard moments; I also know I'll continue to feel supported by all of you. Love to all.
I bought a delicious new knitting book last night with money I couldn’t afford to spend … and found inside some treasures
The introduction said, “knitting is being called the ‘new yoga’ … when asked why we knit, most will say something as inarticulate as, ‘it feels good’” And it goes on to list all the other activities we know to get us out of our left brains.
Jean, I hope drawing will make you feel good too.
What a concept – doing something merely because it feels good.
Good morning all! Clearly I have some catching up to do. Two weeks gone is a lot of messages on this blog.
I did not sit once during that time. But paddling a kayak proved at times to be supremely meditative. And in that landscape where water and air seem to mingle indeterminately I spent long hours letting old and recent memories, feelings, thoughts, wash over and through me and out the other side like self-propelled tides. I feel clean and soft and slightly salten. Life is far from perfect, but it is good.
Hello, everyone: hugs to all, and welcome back to MB.
I'm thinking of the Zen calligraphy Beth alluded to: "Everything changes." That pretty much says everything, doesn't it? I'm reminded of a passage in (I think) Thich Nhat Hanh's *Miracle of Mindfulness* where a dad is lamenting the fact that everything changes until his young daughter points out that change can be good: "If things didn't change, I'd never be able to grow!"
So when you're feeling sad, change can be a good thing: "This too shall pass," etc.
I just sat for 15 minutes of "serious cushion time," followed by two short but invigorating chants. What I *like* about this abbreviated evening practice is it takes less than a half hour, but it feels like I've gotten a "taste" of a full hour's worth of evening practice (chanting & sitting).
I am ecstatic to say I unexpectedly found a copy of my Sadhana CD (& I came with 2 suitcases, very little stuff & don't know how I've not seen it before) and I know I'm meant to chant along with it (my voice, not very strong or musical, this way is good).
Welcome back MB! Glad you had such a lusciously good time - you've been missed, though, too!
7 Comments:
Good morning and love to all of you. Jean, I'm especially thinking of you and hoping your sadness lifts. Remember that everything changes: the little Zen calligraphic sign on my desk says so!
Please think of me over the next few days as I travel back to my parents' home to deal with my mother's personal things, and do final tasks about her death with my father. I know there are going to be some hard moments; I also know I'll continue to feel supported by all of you. Love to all.
Beth, oh I will be thinking of you very much and stretching arms of friendship across the ocean.
Janice, yes, what Dale said. I know so little about you, but enough of your heart to feel sad for your sufferings. How strange and wonderful.
Ruth, wise words even when you're anonymous: "mourning old yous - including the you that didn't let yourself feel sadness???". Yes.
Dale, oh thank you for making me laugh about my very mispent youth :-)
Oy – happiness is a new book
I bought a delicious new knitting book last night with money I couldn’t afford to spend … and found inside some treasures
The introduction said, “knitting is being called the ‘new yoga’ … when asked why we knit, most will say something as inarticulate as, ‘it feels good’” And it goes on to list all the other activities we know to get us out of our left brains.
Jean, I hope drawing will make you feel good too.
What a concept – doing something merely because it feels good.
Good morning all! Clearly I have some catching up to do. Two weeks gone is a lot of messages on this blog.
I did not sit once during that time. But paddling a kayak proved at times to be supremely meditative. And in that landscape where water and air seem to mingle indeterminately I spent long hours letting old and recent memories, feelings, thoughts, wash over and through me and out the other side like self-propelled tides. I feel clean and soft and slightly salten. Life is far from perfect, but it is good.
Love to you all.
Hello, everyone: hugs to all, and welcome back to MB.
I'm thinking of the Zen calligraphy Beth alluded to: "Everything changes." That pretty much says everything, doesn't it? I'm reminded of a passage in (I think) Thich Nhat Hanh's *Miracle of Mindfulness* where a dad is lamenting the fact that everything changes until his young daughter points out that change can be good: "If things didn't change, I'd never be able to grow!"
So when you're feeling sad, change can be a good thing: "This too shall pass," etc.
I just sat for 15 minutes of "serious cushion time," followed by two short but invigorating chants. What I *like* about this abbreviated evening practice is it takes less than a half hour, but it feels like I've gotten a "taste" of a full hour's worth of evening practice (chanting & sitting).
I am ecstatic to say I unexpectedly found a copy of my Sadhana CD (& I came with 2 suitcases, very little stuff & don't know how I've not seen it before) and I know I'm meant to chant along with it (my voice, not very strong or musical, this way is good).
Welcome back MB! Glad you had such a lusciously good time - you've been missed, though, too!
Devon, oh, thank you... getting your situation nicely resolved in a beautiful and perfect home uppermost in my sympathetic meditations too!
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