Teeth in the Grass

Sometimes I feel like such a fraud. I know everyone does. Elizabeth Lesser talks about it. Pema talks about it. Lama SD talks about it. I talk about about it. But now I'm in it. Totally in it. Standing in it. Walking with it. Sitting with it. Being swept away by it. Breathing with it.

I always do the same thing with it. Less so now. With more practice I'm better at it. Sure. But still. And...

"When we're brothers at last, there will be teeth in the grass."

So, like, what? I guess it's there. And do the work.

The worksies.

Try not to add more suffering to the pain.

Breaking it.

So many times I do the same thing. I didn't even know I was doing it. So many ideas of oneself crowd the mind like too many shops in a strip mall. Really, I didn't know I was doing it. Does that make me unconscious? What about accountable? My friend's "Guru-Bell" says all rules apply. Even the ones you don't know about. That makes sense.

That makes a lot of sense.

I wrote on Facebook, "Ah yes, my old friend." And yes, he's back. Or she. What does this person (?) look like? Pink, purple, moonlight, campfire, musky, rotten, loud like one of those horns lifeguards use to clear the beach? Not sure, but he/she is back.

I look over the edge of a cliff. Does this edge press back? Is there a barking doggie?