At the start and end of Zazen, it is customary to bow. I always thought this bowing was to the buddha, but when I learned more about Buddhism realized that the Buddha himself advised not to admire the Buddha too much, and that we are all buddhas. So who are we bowing to? In a hall of practitioners, you’d bow to your neighbor on the left and right. I’ve never practiced in such a hall, but when I do zazen solo, I bow in order to give gratitude.

Two weeks is a unit of my life. It’s the distance between therapy sessions, between check-ins, between meetings. It used to be a week, back in the good old days. But now I need a full two to really understand what I’m dealing with and where I’m at. The weekend in the middle, the half way point, is a tiny little compass pointing us to the light at the end.

I was surprised the first time I heard that the optimal number of breaths per minute for a human is about six. Try it: sit down somewhere comfortable and try to take six breaths (in and out is one breath). Make each one last about 10 seconds. No need to time it perfectly. When I first tried this activity, I pictured my breath going up a flight of stairs and back down.

+++ title = “12” date = 2019 +++ The towel hanger on the back of the bathroom door fell off this morning. It’s the third piece of the bathroom to break in the last week or so. First the knob on the shower handle, then then stopper lever on the faucet, and now this. This house is falling apart, I thought to myself. And then, another thought: This house is always falling apart.

We hosted a dinner a while back and made the entire meal ourselves. We had a romantic experience in the kitchen, tossing ingredients, dancing to music, tasting, and smelling. When we saw the reaction to the food we’d made, it was a nice cap to the end of a great experience from start to finish. The joy of a potluck is that every person contributing gets to have this experience. Every person gets the experience and journey of cooking a dish for others, and watching their reactions.