Zazen on Wednesday

Seido Ronci says today, "One of my students has been blogging about me--called me the aged poet." He laughs. I mentally run through whatever entries I've made regarding Seido--and I don't think I've called him aged.

Nice to roost for a moment up there in the room, with the other students, hands in the mudra. This thing I do every day (almost) that is always the same.

I've pretty much given up.

Seido said something today--he quoted someone (I'm such a bad zen student--I can never remember who's who)--that when you do become enlightened, you will realize that you've been enlightened the whole time. That everything is and has been perfect just the way it is.

He is so scoured by Zen. He shines like coals in an alabaster bowl. I realize that I'm a little jealous of him, haven't really appreciated the gifts he brings to us. I show up, but I'm cranky and recalcitrant. I want attention. 26 years. It's still like library story hour when I was three. I can't sit still and I want to switch cushions and be the teacher's favorite. Teacher, teacher!

When he says this, I think about my patient with his brains on the pillow and his daughters weeping over him and don't think life is so perfect.

Life can be a horror, even for the good.

Lilly's back from her meeting at church. So...that's my 6 minutes.