sometimes, the unexpected bumps are painful.

bhain-sidhe-whimpering-012807.mp3 an odd flash of contemplation.

can always tell when i’ve been without sleep too long. i start typing words backwards (sleep was typed seelp) and the odd thoughts punch through. this, a reply to a friend elsewhere, placed here for further consideration…. after seelp. *chuckle*

a reply given to another on the matter of being intelligent, educated, or wise… and of the nature of the heart and the struggle with the mind.

it occurs to me what a great gift i have been given.

ignorant as i am, i have not had a good resource to learn what this term means. i have found one. logging it here for study (reading it now, but will need to re-re-re-re-read it). http://www.buddhanet.net/e-learning/depend.htm

Flowers and garbage. We choose which we turn to. It’s all suchness. Faced with garbage, I wait for flowers. They come as all things do in time. Patience isn’t a bad thing, and if I cannot make the flowers grow, I will instead wait for them to arrive as they will. That is not the same as saying there are no flowers. Nor is it the same as saying there is only garbage. Nor is it saying I even know which are which. Which is funny and sad all at once. I do not wish to heap my garbage in […]

What is there to discuss? It is as it is. Do our fumbling, stumbling efforts To set our own words, wrapped in tar, Stinking and sticky with Samsara, On the table as if roses Benefit?

just home from a Losar smoke offering and some hours of savory sharing with the Sangha. a quiet and introspective surfing brings am email to me in which someone thanks me for things that are likely just me displaying my profound ignorance… but which, for some reason, arrive as deeply meaningful to them.

a reminder stubbed once is not nice stubbed twice is a teaching stubbed three times is to be stubborn it is to ourselves we’re always preaching