When all seems as it should be. Looking out at an early summer rain through a screen door. A certain favorite song on the stereo. Not a thought in yer head; neither bitter or sweet. Or out past Buffalo headed west, it's road trip dope, nothing but semis and sky and the whine of decent tires.
The swami can summon that feeling anytime he wants.Why can't we ? Because our minds are clouded. There is a burr under our saddles. Whenever our interior voice keeps repeating, mostly the f word, but also the old "he said ,she saids". I, for one, like to argue with the invisible man or worry, thus affording myself the opportunity to suffer the same pain many times over.
This monday morning I'm going to take this short moment and .......
consider the whipoorwill
who neither reaps nor sows
nor packs a lunch
as the saying goes
(Geez smoothstar what did you have for breakfast?)
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