Back from sesshin, short and beautiful. After a day of sitting on Saturday, I walked out to the little house where I was bunking and, breaking the sesshin precautions, lifted my eyes from the ground to look at the sky. A hundred million layers of stars looked back at me. Such a fantastic life! A couple of hours later, as I walked back to the zendo, an owl whoo-hoo'ed. Enormous gratitude!
Not so related, but a poem nonetheless.
by Sandra Beasley
For six months I dealt Baccarat in a casino.
For six months I played Brahms in a mall.
For six months I arranged museum dioramas;
my hands were too small for the Paleolithic
and when they reassigned me to lichens, I quit.
I type ninety-one words per minute, all of them
Help. Yes, I speak Dewey Decimal.
I speak Russian, Latin, a smattering of Tlingit.
I can balance seven dinner plates on my arm.
All I want to do is sit on a veranda while
a hard rain falls around me. I'll file your 1099s.
I'll make love to strangers of your choice.
I'll do whatever you want, as long as I can do it
on that veranda. If it calls you, it's your calling,
right? Once I asked a broker what he loved
about his job, and he said Making a killing.
Once I asked a serial killer what made him
get up in the morning, and he said The people.