Oh, the meticulous conscience of mine. Leave alone actually doing something wrong… Even not responding to the unskillfulness of others in a skillful way is a reason to feel bad now. Thanks a lot, Buddhism!
I was embarrassed to sit on Saturday night after a pretty bad day. As if I was not worthy to mediate. I eventually sat. Repeating the Buddho mantra with a desperation of a tragedy-stricken Christian saying Hail Marys. But there is no God in Buddhism. There is only me, my mindfulness and diligence in my training.
And I remembered that the Self is a process. Like the Great Red Spot on Jupiter. It may appear still and unchanging, but in reality, it’s a swirling storm absorbing the matter around it, assimilating it. But in truth… there is no Great Red Spot at all. It’s just a matter surrendering to ever-changing conditions.
I had also found some consolation in “Tao Te Ching”:
Just as you breathe in and breathe out,
there is a time for being ahead
and a time for being behind;
Amidst the rush of worldly comings and goings,
observe how endings become beginnings.
Yes, I’m still reading “Tao Te Ching”. In the old days, it would take me on average just a few days to finish any given book. The equation was simple: Number of days required to finish a book = number of pages / 100. These days the matter is far more complex:
Number of days required to finish a book = (number of pages / 100) * ((number of kids * sum of kids age) – the age of the youngest child)).
51 Days to finish a 300-page book… Yep, seems scientifically accurate based on the formula I developed last night while bathing my kids.