Most of my thoughts are thieves
A den of thieves, skulking around in my head
Stealing the moment...
I need to call Bob
Don't forget to buy dogfood at New Leaf
I have so much to do tomorrow. I hope I don't forget
I better make a list...
And on and on, in mundane burglary.
Soon the weight of all the things I must do
But cannot obviously do in this moment
Are like a ball and chain on my ankle
For in THIS moment I am standing in my blue robe
In the kitchen
My belly full of cool water
Waiting for the tea kettle to boil
I am feeling the coldness of the wood floor on my bare feet
I breathe out Ali baba and the 40 thieves
As I select the hummingbird cup and pull out the green tea bag
The one which says its authentic Japanese tea.
And in that gap, the silent space of Now
Joy arises, like steam from the kettle
And whistles its splendid song.
For in this moment, there is nothing I can do
But what I am doing.
All else is snatching away my life from Being
In this celestial moment.
How to stop these thieves from breaking and entering?
Silence is the key. Silence is the guard.
In silence, every errant thought rings loudly.
And crown jewels shine in their glass cases.
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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