My monkey mind is fading mostly due to the fact that I'm not sticking an IV of caffeine into my veins every morning. Instead I am sticking an IV of meditation into my still way-too-prominent veins. (Will my veins be less veiny the healthier I become? I hope so. They really gross me out. Like, I'm happy I have veins, don't get me wrong, but I don't want my body to look like a topography map.) I begin my mornings, ideally, with a good morning sunshine text or two to lovely souls I keep near my heart, a ten-minute meditation where I am basically just thinking about what I will wear to work and eat for lunch, and a walk outside to greet the birds and avoid the chatty women who walk way too fast for such a peaceful time of the day. I return home, refreshed (and usually ready to wet my pants), and sit down to write. Oh yes, and I make tea. This morning I made coffeeeeee... eeeeee.... eeeeee...e.e.e.e.e.e I know, I know. I probably shouldn't have done that. But give me a break! I can only make so many improvements and changes. Like I think I said before, Buddha didn't build a perfect burrito in one day. It took him/her waaaay longer. And he/she probably had the help of some coffee! Look, all things in moderation. The Middle Path. Moderation in moderation as well. Let's get crazy!
Let's also get compassionate. Broken Record Meg has replaced Monkey Mind Meg, for better or for worse. I will continue to hark about how vital compassion is for all of us -- to cultivate it, to show it, to place it above almost everything else. In other words, leave your guns at home. Let's hug it out instead.
Coffee break. Expect me to return with a few shadows of my Monkey Mind.
Alright, I had ONE sip of coffee and suddenly I'm singing ᗅᗺᗷᗅ songs and, for some very unknown reason, chanting the phrase "nuts and butts." Which kind of nuts, Meg? And which kind of butts? I am genuinely looking forward to the return of my butt. I had one excellently shaped butt back in the day. This is the truth. There is no truth more truthy than this. I remember a kid named Chris slapping my butt ten years ago (!!!) at the dollar theater and proclaiming that I had the best butt in Provo. Now, I don't think this is entirely true, but I do admit that it was rather remarkable. I also admit that I was too naive to know that no one should slap my butt without my permission. These days I would slap the punk right back, but in the face not the butt. I'm not much of a butt slapper. Or a face slapper, although I did once throw a glass of water into someone's face. The water mostly just got on their shirt.
Enough about butts! More about how I don't like how I feel right now. Jittery Meg and Monkey Mind Meg are best friends. Man, are they exhausting. They are like those chatty women in the park. They keep talking, but they never listen. And they practically run over Middle Path Meg because they are speed walking down the middle of the path and refuse to show some COMPASSION and move out of the way. That's okay. May they be happy, may they be healthy, may they be free from suffering, and may they pause to admire the birds and my butt.
May we all pause to admire the birds and my soon-to-return butt!
I will return soon once I chill out from these buzzzzzz beanzzzzz.
YOU ARE SEXY.