December 7, 2008

 

 

Sometimes I fall asleep on the path and my mind wanders off for days in some non-sensical dream/train of thought that circles like a feedback loop with no purpose.  But if I happen to see an old graceful tree on the side of the road, or hear just a segment of a chant or the sound of someone taking a deep breath.... if I pause at the stop light and just happen to “hear” my own breath in the midst of this mindless thought circle, I’ll wake up and remember that it is time to go back home.  It is time to sit on the cushion, to write until the circle is broken to engage in cultivating the desire within me to seek peace and wisdom.  it is time for me to pay attention to the face of my mother, my spouse, my sister, my co-workers.  And i remember how precious this time is -the unpredictable time I live on the precious earth.  It turns into  a day that I drive until I find a cluster of trees or find a wild place to stroll with soft pine needles beneath.  Where I can wander like a child with no agenda and contemplate the beauty of  knotted crooked branches with their leafy hands turned up towards the sky.  It is time for me to stop long enough to read the language of the dark crevices in the bark-tracing the letters with my fingers and then go home and read the language of my own ever-changing face.