Tuesday

For the second day in a row, outside my window they are pruning trees, putting branches into the wood chipper. They move off the leaf blower came out. 

Luckily I was doing Buddhanasati, and I chant 108 shakyamuni mantras in my head. That's actually a really good practice when things are noisey. I don't say it out loud. Then I imagine sitting next to the Buddha. He has given me permission to begin the path. Sitting next to meditators, I have felt more absorbed, they rubbed off on me. I don't quite get that meditating online with people, but I get something.

They don't come around and trim trees often, and honestly before you know it, it's over. Temporary. I can't remember the last time they did it, but I'm not always around like I am these days. 

Growing up in Madison Wisconsin, as a kid I would climb lots of trees. They didn't trim the lower branches, in NYC they trim lower branches so you can't easily climb trees. One time I was at a friend's house, and we were flying a remote controlled plane. It got stuck in a tree. I climbed the tree and got it back. They were all surprised. City kids who hadn't learned how to climb trees. Because they cut the lower limbs off around the streets. 

Amir and Sepehr didn't show up for meditation, only Amir had asked to meditate. He sent me a lovely apology email, shows me the respect, which is quite kind of him. Things are catch as catch can, and I work hard to be flexible, stop my meditation, go online and lead a meditation, which is really just ringing a bell to start and finish. They don't really need me, but somehow they seem to appreciate me. 

Sepehr showed me his website. He builds websites. Sepehr asked to mediate, and then he was at Amir's. I think it's funny every time I see them together, I need to go to Iran and meet them in person.

GolGavZaban is a tea that Amir drank before meditating. They're really into tea in Iran. 

It's time to begin an intensification with winter. In India it's the rainy season, 3 months when the farmers asked the monks not to walk around. 

Unfold Your Own Myth by Rumi

Who gets up early

to discover the moment light begins?

Who finds us here circling, bewildered, like atoms?

Who comes to a spring thirsty

and sees the moon reflected in it?

Who, like Jacob blind with grief and age,

smells the shirt of his lost son

and can see again?

Who lets a bucket down and brings up

a flowing prophet?

Or like Moses goes for fire

and finds what burns inside the sunrise?

Jesus slips into a house to escape enemies,

and opens a door to the other world.

Soloman cuts open a fish, and there’s a gold ring.

Omar storms in to kill the prophet

and leaves with blessings.

Chase a deer and end up everywhere!

An oyster opens his mouth to swallow on drop.

Now there’s a pearl.

A vagrant wanders empty ruins.

Suddenly he’s wealthy.

But don’t be satisfied with stories, how things

have gone with others. Unfold

your own myth, without complicated explanation,

so everyone will understand the passage,

We have opened you.

Start walking toward Shams. Your legs will get heavy

and tired. Then comes a moment

of feeling the wings you’ve grown,

lifting.