Originally Posted: March 12, 2014
Thankfully, these days, the momentum of Practice usually just carries me along like an autumn leaf floating on the surface of a dancing brook. I just get up, go pee, then Sit. The real "decision" was apparently made a long time ago. Since then, Morning and Meditation have become one and the same. I awake and meditate for the awakening of all sentient beings.
Sitting here with sunshine streaming in the window, with fierce, even deadly, winds howling across fields and through the trees on the ridge (the wind chill just made it up to 0° from an overnight of -8°), I feel a glowing warmth and appreciation; a sense of wonder and exhilaration; and a deep gratitude that I somehow stumbled and bumbled my way into Practice, and through Practice, into the Gracious Spaciousness of the One Love. I'm so grateful to have realized that this tender, wounded little heart glowing in my chest is my direct connection to the One Heart of True Compassion. In fact, they are not two. Who would have thought?
These days, even if those types of thoughts and feelings swirl me up with them into the vortex of a momentary whirlpool, I generally just meet them and greet them as old friends, the consequences of our shared human condition, and wish them well as they come -- and go. Underneath, the water is always pretty calm and pretty clear -- and is essentially no different than the open expanse of the blue sky reaching overhead.