After all of this, my histrionics around belonging or not, my self-holding that prevents me from fully diving into/belonging in any community that will have me. Not wanting to be taken for the silly fool, wanting some kind of external confirmation that this path is valid, I remain separate. I don’t fully throw myself into my worlds lest one of them turn out to be filled with wackos, and then, what would that say about me? I hold myself prudently apart. In this, I find myself perpetually alone, and craving ‘real’ community. This self-fulfilling misery is tragic in its expression.

Looking at death through another lense. A long time volunteer, and someone I considered a friend, even if I did not show up on her doorstep all that much moved into the next realm -- a friend lost her father-in-law, and people die all around me all the time. I wonder if I'd maintain my 'stoic' relationship with death if it hit closer to home. It seems to me, it's all about the stories we tell ourselves around death that make it so frightening. What if I did not fear death - for myself or for others? What does it intrinsically mean?

I breathe and the knot on the wall breathes with me. My posture gets a little more correct, and the wall stands tall. We are for a fleeting moment, not separate, and then, I am back with 'me' breathing along with the wall-post. All of this talk of 'emptiness' that seemed so 'meaningless' suddenly exactly describes what I am talking about, and I resent, or at least resist thinking that maybe there was something to all that claptrap. Caught looking again. I foster hope that I might know something already. If I can continue to keep open to the questioning.

all this crap about wanting belonging = it’s really about wanting to let myself let go enough to RISK not belonging, to feel the pain of emptiness, of unrequited friendship, of excruciating lonliness, and I wonder how many of us have been wandering around with the pain of lonliness because we simply won’t let others in. It became clear to me w/ EC today, so why can’t it be clear for me in my own being? I think I am acheing to let myself belong in the human family. I am aching to let myself stand naked and let you in.

But what if I don't want to? What do I do about the ongoing struggle between developing a lifelong habit, and what I really want to do in this moment? How do I corral my desire to have free reign and free choice, reconciling this with looking at a practice that is a practice, regardless of whether I want to in a particular moment. Who wins? If I give in to what I want to do, my practice is nothing more than 'hobby'. If I do when I have other preferences, my practice is demand. Which one will win today?

I ask you a question, you deflect it for one reason or another, I am unwilling to answer my own question, because I asked you first - so now our conversation is at a standstill with the implication that it's all your fault... (flipped, in hopes of developing my own sense of compassion) Why did I not see it then? I didn't have an answer, turned back to you in hopes that our answer might illuminate mine, clearly you are coming from somewhere I cannot see yet.The challenge to "come up with your own" topic doesn't satisfy - it's the same dynamic.

Power dynamic - what do you want? no, what do you want? I asked you first. But what you want really influences what I want. What do you want independently of me? I do not know anymore, your wishes are now a part of my reality. Yes, but I want to know what you want. You can’t change your mind based on what I want. I no longer wanted what I wanted independently because it’s not what you want. Ugh, this is exhausting, and I’ve walked this dynamic so many times. Is the way out having strong opinions that override yours?

OK, so this is a true confession here. I'm writing my 'daily' 100 words lines in once a week bursts. Yes, it's true. I don't have the discipline to sit at my computer each day after hours of sitting at a computer during my work hours, I am delighted to have the freedom to step away from the machine when the lights go down, & and I am alone with my thoughts. I'm certain I write on my 'off' days, but rarely congeal them into a tastey morsel or log in to show the world the results of my toil.

larche is not meant to be a solution, but a sign. There is something inspirational in the transmission of a vision. We want to change the world, one community at a time, changing how we relate to people who are different. If we see something other than someone who is disabled, there is wisdom in tenderness and there is wisdom to be found on the outside. The beauty of the open yearning enthusiasm of the young. The machine is simply too big. How do I face and move toward my fear? How do I find the new path? Reference: http://www.larche.ca/en/jean_vanier/biography/

Where do you find the transcendental strand to follow? What about this world is described in your faith? Who are you? Who is it that you intend to be? What was Einstein's relationship to passion in relationship with strongly troubling the reality of life in the European context. What relative weakness might keep the tension modest. Imagining the goal of presidency and Israel. What kinds of ethics do we hold? Which bowl of rice belongs to each of us? Which one belongs to you alone? Which part of the human condition is yours? Less coherent, certainly, but still part of.

Who or what would I be without these waves of adreneline? The telephone message was too short, I knew it was serious. Where is the dharma in this? The adreneline stayed with me, I remain helpless in the absence of information, simply accompanied by ever present worry. I’m not one to worry and, in the face of not knowing, and can’t doing, I worry. WHAT? Something really wrong with her mind, she’s lost whole swaths of time, and doesn’t know about the present day. Where is my place in this? I’m here with my anxiety, not asking it to leave.

I see conscious stream -- a lovely fable - not much left here, the little whispers of this & that & the other thing (so commonly repeated phrases & the dance goes forward) -- the ageless angles wash the skycrapers fully represented and the great multinational companies are white collar handles are held forth and looking into the darkness where there wasn't anything before. I see hair here, and wonder what all of this means in the outside shiftable economy. Depletion of the edgeless, echo-free angles of the nested prepositional phrase. Wanting slowling to peer into the darkened window beyond the close leaves.

I heard they needed cash, and happily gave it. If it had been someone else, I might not have so easily parted with dollars. Feeling defensive about whether this is the ‘dead daughter’ phenomenon. I think not. I think I already had a wallet easy to open in her regard long before the drama that followed the family eastward. I cannot stand to see the suffering of others. What can I do to create healing? The giant distance between the healer and the healed. A great healer cannot be filled with anxiety. Looking at depression in the mental health profession.

I notice that in ABPP, my left hip is less open than the right hip (right one is the one which sometimes troubles me) - found light pain in this pose w/ left leg bent this time too. During class, this was the straight(R)-leg hyper-extending due to pressure on this leg (relieved by removing the height under the seat), this time the ankle digs into the meat of the quad (regardless of the angle of the knee) -- sensitivity relieved somewhat when the quad relaxes some, but am (as of yet) unable to eliminate this. One little bit of awareness revealed today.

No current theme. This means I just write about nothing in particular, not finding the theme that I had at the beginning of the month. I'm just writing. Perhaps tomorrow we'll be back on some kind of writing 'wagon' that focuses my energies and allows me to pull meaning from the events of the day. Squarely craving the chocolate bar of the moment. Cheese, chocolate, marzipan, my bike is away at the doctor. Why does the day seem so full? Where will I find more beets? What if I leave my mind outside the picture?Streaming steadily through unanswered questions.

Who judges if a particular action is ‘virtuous’ or not? (punya vs. apunya). Likewise, who determines that one station in life is ‘better’ than another? Is it necessarily a bad thing that one be born into difficult circumstances? Is this a sign of some lack of spiritual development? (It seems that this interpretation would serve to justify class and racial disparity with an explanation that the ‘other’ people get what they ‘deserve’ — increasing rather than diminishing a sense of separation). (Perhaps one is in a particularly ‘difficult’ set of circumstances because one’s being –whatever ‘transmigrates’ — is up to the challenge?)

Looking into karma, curious how this does not simply justify the status quo, recognizing that I have 'good things' happening in my life because I 'deserve it' -- doesn't that simply encourage ongoing discrimination and division? Doesn't this simply justify a sense of separation between us & them, we, the 'righteous' & you the 'poor & pathetic'. I am in the right for having all that I have? Simple comparison, justification of the 'good' getting the 'goodies' and the bad, 'virtuous' though they may be, getting what is handed down to them by prior 'badness'. There is an explanation that works.

As I heard about a system of reward & punishment and 'good' & 'bad' actions in the description of karma, I realize I had had a different interpretation, I'm curious how mine fits or does not fit with your understanding of karma. My previous understanding of karma doesn't have good or bad actions which are rewarded or punished, but that there are results or outcomes just as ripples are created on the water when I throw a pebble in, these ripples are neither good nor bad -- there are ripples created from every action or non-action that stems from 'not seeing'.

Our littlest sister dashed away onto the first stage. There is work in order to adjust to the culture. Daydream resolutely. If you don't know the way forward, or haven't seen the full moon or the rising river in curled tongues. Snagged square toed shoes. Walk resolutely, mouth shut, shoes on feet. Stumbling in a daze and the irritation paramount. If extolling the trussed chicken. Physical edge, and the wide gates beckoned into a civilization taunting fingers of newspaper trace washing the spray down erradicated. How do you make it stick? Slouch and amble or worry nicely. Wag quickly rightly.

Just when I think I'm completely "on it" in terms of what posts are current and so forth, I'm really with it, suddenly there are 3 days in a row available to publish. So now I get to move forward with three-hundred words spanning out ahead of me. A treat or a stretch? I don't blame you for running away. I hope you can hear me. This seeking freedom, this seeking next to me. Show me the love, show me how my enemies - expand their breathing into truthiness. Fretting up and down the guitar board. Can you afford anything less?

remembering in the entering ceremony the palpable pull of grasping at the unveiling on the malas. in that moment there was a little extra inhale of a palpable leaning forward toward material stuff. I found myself briefly caught in it, and then perplexed. Really? I'd "step on a path" one that would likely shake things up for me, to get a wooden bracelet?? You've GOT to be kidding! When I woke up, I interpreted my companions as still "caught" still leaning in, excited to have an outward signal of this practice. A thing of beauty, it's true. Pause, Reflect, Adjust.

investigating sleepiness in the mind. My mind feels thick like a swamp as I move between worlds, the image so profoundly real - of a thickening descending weight or tripling of gravity as the sleepiness descends. Almost always followed by a swift breath of cool, fresh air, as I move rapidly through thickening air and mind to clear, awareness with lungs filled with this cool air. The man walks slowly down the block dragging his right leg. His whole right side is stiff. Perhaps he has had a stroke. And yet, he walks, everyday. He is some-body's father, maybe their grandfather.

Boredom: I want to make sure last week's comment re: approaching 'boredom' is understood as it was intended. 'Boredom' signals not 'necessary' modification of the outward practice, but of the inward. My attention was flagging, indicating that I needed to bring more subtle attention to the practice than I have been bringing. I noted it as part of my experience, not because I anticipate or want change. In fact, I was surprised and perplexed, given my other practices, that SOME movement was sufficient to lift my attention from the dynamic and ever changing landscape of just breathing and being alive.

I have chosen to live my life car-free. Most days, I move about by the power of my feet or my bike or public transportation. As the rain came, and I was trying to go about my life, the half-hour ride was suddenly VERY inconvenient. I found myself arriving where I was going soggy, and in desperate need of sympathy. I wanted someone to notice, and say pity me. But they didn't even when I made more obvious my suffering. I didn't like what was going on inside as I did that, but also felt quite powerless to transform it.

I have chosen to live a car-free life. I am fully aligned with what lead me to make that choice. AND, there are days when I am more joyful about this choice than others. Today is one of those others. I say that, and yet, I am MUCH more at peace w/ the whole thing now than I was even a few days ago. Being aligned with the reason I am choosing to ride in the rain makes it so much more fun. I go without a car because I do not wish to fuel the wars without end. MORE

my consideration of studying with you all has been a deep, and somewhat frought exploration. There is this push-me, pull-me relationship I have with the FUSSINESS of it all that has been fascinating to me. I am surprised to find that I am attracted to additional fuss. A said the other day "we need you" - she was speaking genearally - but I know she does. Both on the cosmic level - we can't go anywhere alone - but also on a personal level. This organization needs me. I know this in a way that doesn't really seem to touch the ego. It's simple.

i trust my intuition. i'm confused why the seal of approval of ZPM gives me more draw toward moving closer to this circle. why do I relax some if others approve? i don't wanna be 'caught' as a 'fool' sucked into some crazy cult that will leave me short and shaking. I want to make choices that will be good for my little 's' AND my by 'S' self. I'm bouncing along on a very precarious precipice that has me sitting here twisted. it is really NOT just about having community. It is about Truth, and my doubt in that.

This rocket ship ain't goin' nowhere without all of us, no exceptions. This means that child abusers, the war mongers, the reacists, the irritating people, the murderers, the liers, the people who "don't get it", in addition to our easy allies. We ALL have to be part of the family or it is nothing. it is one thing to get something a first or a second time, but I seem to be coming round once more to where I started and "knowing it for the first time". The red star hanging proudly just over the moon's shoulder. It is time.

I am heartbroken (again) to see how many things I have missed. I have been living holding an idealized vision of Detroit Metro in regards to race-relations. I left Detroit as a pre-teen to move to the south -- relations were so strained & separated there, that even the most blind could not think to delude themselves into thinking that the civil rights movement was over and parity achieved. Detroit has always seemed a model for other communities in terms of mixed communities working together. Maybe it was just the folks my mom hung out with that gave me that illusion.

The story your grandfather told you when you were three, and the look the cashier gave me as I walked away, and the fact that that guy over there burnt his breakfast, and that little girl over there has never known love, the fact that I have been loved unconditionally, that her grandmother loved persimmons and six years ago those folks had a short and emotionally frought affair, all conspired to make me who I am, and to bring me here, standing with my wild hair, my bright-red shoes, and my grumpy attitude that lets me say 'no' once more.

this morning two bright stars in the southeast hung like lightbulbs in the sky - so very out of place. I got, partly through speaking with A, on a whole new level how interconnected we are. How who I am depends not only on the sum of my experiences, but on the sum of yours and your ancestors, and those of the people who cross my path. I got on a whole new level, how this whole "beings are numbrless, I vow to awaken them" 'schtick' is really NO JOKE. this rocketship ain't goin' nowhere unless we all get on board.