September 26, 2013

Mason Wilson is dead. He was a kind, good man. He was kind and good to me. Unexpectedly stricken by the news.

Late last afternoon– lay on the bed in the half-dark in what seems from this distance like comic despair. No, it doesn’t really

I work too hard, yet the goal is not reached. Whenever I teach Hinduism and Buddhism I hear their mockery from afar of a person who wears attachment around his neck like an albatross. Yet if asked the question, do I want peace or the life I want, peace loses every time. It’s not as though losing one gains the other. Nevertheless–

The two boxes of plants become for. I itch for the next hole in the schedule not arched over by driving rain..