For why the Bells toll?

Settling in to myself. I find that there are times during the day when I have no particular place to go or anything particular to do and then I just look around and do that which needs doing. It’s a new experience for me. All these years, and I never relaxed. Thirty plus years clean and sober, as many years practicing Zen Buddhism; eleven years retired and I never relaxed. Fuck!

But, I’m not at all dismayed.

It takes what it takes.

Everyone has to be somewhere and, everyone has to be doing something.

Even if it appears to be nothing. I was caught up in the something and not noticing where I was. Well, I’m right here, and its just fine. Still sober. Still going to do my practice and keep learning without the focus on the doing part of learning. Learning appears to take place in a passive moment, after the doing.

Passive as in still.

Not doing. Not wishing. Not dreaming. Not telling tired old stories about me, to myself, from myself with a running commentary on my most recent awareness about all that.

Sort of like this.

Yawn. Time to go ring the bell on the porch.

Its big one, but I strike it softly.

Seven measured sounds, then an increasing tempo ring down.

Then Five. Then Three. Finally, three more.

One medium. One soft. One hard(ish).

The Breakfast Cats ( Waffle, Flapjack and Pancake), join me in this evening ceremony of my devising, but not out of some Buddhist leanings (then again, what do I know), but because they get a little treat before they retire for the night.

As will I.

Peace upon the pillow

Makurah Ohm

Makurah Ohm

(Ting. Ting.)

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