morning meditation.

Up early this morning to sit zazen¹, then outside to play with Smudge. Trying to get back into the routine of sitting every morning. Which has slipped of late.
In fact I was having so much fun tooling around with the dog that I totally forgot breakfast.

Then sit down again, this time to write. Its interesting to note my feelings around this new space. Whilst before, I had over a thousand visits on a given day, and most days I would look forward to some tasty comment yumnificence left in response.
When I sat down to write over there, I could really feel people were going to read my words.
Wow.

But here, a handful of visitors on the most busy day. When I sit down to write in this space, it feels totally quiet.
Like a seed.

I push through any discouragement. When I sit zazen, there is nobody watching. No comments are made, yet is this very emptiness that brackets my day and provides ground from which to flourish.
If people were watching me sit, it would be very difficult to practice with any authenticity.

Perhaps that is the lesson. That my writing can be like this. A container, a bracket, a space to listen to my breath, settle on my authentic voice, and see where it leads.

You Reading This, Be Ready

Starting here, what do you want to remember?
How sunlight creeps along a shining floor?
What scent of old wood hovers, what softened
sound from outside fills the air?

Will you ever bring a better gift for the world
than the breathing respect that you carry
wherever you go right now? Are you waiting
for time to show you some better thoughts?

When you turn around, starting here, lift this
new glimpse that you found; carry into evening
all that you want from this day. This interval you spent
reading or hearing this, keep it for life -

What can anyone give you greater than now,
starting here, right in this room, when you turn around?

William Stafford

1. this is a Japanese word that means: your leg has gone to sleep and your nose is itching like crazy [↩]