I love Buddhist humor. I especially love the way many Buddhist meditation masters find humorous ways to show us how uptight we can get. Back in ancient times, before kids, my wife and I took a long cross-country RV trip.
Our simple practice of sustaining mindful attention on the most ordinary happenings in our everyday life, can bring this feeling of really being alive. We meditate for many different reasons. Often, our original motivations morph as we move forward on
Ram Dass encouraged us to embrace our foolish selves rather than try to fix them. I heard the news as I was driving home from work this past Tuesday morning. Ram Dass was dead. Maybe I will remember this drive
I feel that I should be above it all, but mostly I’m not. I struggle with my emotions. Meditation helps a lot, but sometimes I am just plain sad or overcome by all that is untenable in the world, borrowing
Good poems, for me, are often potent teachings on how to live this precious life we are given. Over the years I have been moved to tears reading poems. There is one poet in particular I keep coming back to,
You can’t push the river, the Zen masters of old would say. And wow, how I have tried—reading, studying the Dharma, going on retreats, even fasting from time to time. And it’s still little ol’ me, unenlightened and pooped out