Skip to main content

meditation


I sat in meditation. It was morning, early by my standards. Bodhi sang his little boy songs at my feet, humming a "vrroooom", "vrrrrrooooomm", with his wooden cars and an "OUCH" as he turned them unceremoniously onto their sides. Our cat Eli, purred enthusiastically on my right, in a lusty bid for attention. Owen lay ensconced in his bed, playing his banned gameboy beneath the covers, thrilled by his own daring, while Shane slept, wide mouthed, beneath a downy comforter. I finished my inspirational reading. I closed my eyes for the minute or two afforded me, each morning. I breathed. I opened. I breathed again. Bodhi put his head on my lap and Eli nudged closer, while the gentle sound of snoring and forbidden gameboys echoed in the back ground. A soft smile overtook my face. I opened my eyes. I picked up Bodhi, he hugged me briefly, arched his back and called, "DOWN". Eli nuzzled closer, I stroked the soft white tuft of fur behind his head, twice, before he bit me (that's Eli). I stared out the window. The window! The windows were filthy, water spotted and a mess. I continued to look out the window, savoring these few moments of inactivity and then it dawned on me, "My meditation windows are filthy!". Well the irony of this wasn't lost on me. I grabbed my glass cleaner and cloth. Like a hybridized zen monk and obsessive compulsive clean freak, I washed the inside windows. Bodhi worked at my side, his little hands navigated a small cloth, smearing the windows with pride. I went outside. I spritzed and wiped away the grime while Bodhi laughed at me from the other side. I smiled. I was focused and thorough. I thought to myself "I am cleaning the window of my soul, I am washing clean my own eyes", quotes from the Buddha and Christ surfaced in my mind as I labored... I was happy. I admired my work from the outside, with more than a little egotistic abandon. I came in. Bodhi met me at the door. Together we stood and stared at my handiwork. My mouth dropped. The windows were filthy... smeared and streaked. I stood there, all my ironies dancing to the forefront and then I began to laugh. I laughed until my stomach hurt. I laughed until I was done. I stood up straight again and surveyed my handiwork. At that moment Bodhi lifted his precious arms to me and said, "Poop, Mama, poooop", while emanating a breathtaking odor. I swooped him up, tickled his belly and my real meditations began.

Comments

Sandy said…
What a wonderful story... you are a very gifted writer.

Popular posts from this blog

grief

Grief is defined as a deep or intense sorrow. I have been thinking a lot about grief, about it's wide and sticky reach, about the watery quality of it's absorption and the agonizing effort of swimming to shore. Intense sorrow happens. It is a part of life. Yet we press against it. We try to eradicate it. How? We encapsulate our grief in a story, thus effectively removing us from the immediacy of the pain. The mind promises salvation and begins to tell a story, over and over and over. We listen to the inner ramblings, the constant diatribe, the neurotic attempt to avoid the experience. When someone is hurting we listen to their story, we talk about it, we recount our own story, but we certainly don't jump in the waters of sadness, instead we sit on the bank of our familiar longing. Once, when I was floundering in deep grief, my youngest brother knelt next to me and held me for over an hour. He didn't speak. He didn't commiserate. He just jumped in the

Inosculation

I learned a new word today!  Imagine my joy to discover "inosculation", to taste the word for the first time, rolling it around the soft interior of my mouth before speaking it aloud with a shiver of delight.   I am a lover of trees, not metaphorically but literally.  I linger beneath their branches. I tear up beside their solid beauty and revel in the rough, steady touch of bark beneath a wide sky.  I love learning anything new about my beloveds and today I discovered inosculation , which literally means to unite intimately. Sometimes trees grow so close to each other that they rub up against one another.  The friction of bark on bark wears away at the hard outer layers, revealing a tender, vulnerable, embryonic layer of life.  If they stay in contact through the friction they will join together, uniting into a third thing....  a tree union.  In such cases the trees share their life force with one another.  I can think of no more perfect metaphor for beloved companions.   Th

a story recently shared by a friend

 Once upon a time, there was an island where all the feelings lived: Happiness, Sadness, Knowledge, and all of the others, including Love. One day it was announced to the feelings that island would sink, so all constructed boats and left. Except for Love. Love was the only one who stayed. Love wanted to hold out until the last possible moment. When the island had almost sunk, Love decided to ask for help. Richness was passing by Love in a grand boat. Love said, "Richness, can you take me with you?" Richness answered, "No, I can't. There is a lot of gold and silver in my boat. There is no place here for you." Love decided to ask Vanity who was also passing by in a beautiful vessel. "Vanity, please help me!" "I can't help you, Love. You are all wet and might damage my boat," Vanity answered. Sadness was close by so Love asked, "Sadness, let me go with you." "Oh . . . Love, I am so sad that I need to be by myself