Last week, I flipped to a page in what I call my “bible”–my copy of Long Quiet Highway, by Natalie Goldberg. This book is about waking up in America through the eyes of a woman seeking something more. It’s about Buddhism. Because of its independent principles, I can turn to any page at any time and understand. Because of it’s constant impact, rereading seems to create a scenario where I run into someone I met years ago and we talk for hours about what we’ve learned since. At any rate, I read about my buddhism the other day and immediately, I must admit, I was mad. Frustrated that I wasn’t at home having conversations with Erin or Maury about egolessness, permanence and suffering and life; that I wasn’t attending Nia classes and feeling connected to the room’s anonymous dancers through our movement and mind-expansion. (This was a big crying week for me).
But then of course, it hit me pretty hard, that Hello!? This was why I had read about Buddhism–to practice it right now! To remember that all beings are connected, to release my ego somewhere along this rough road of language learning and to be present as much as possible.
Ah. Let the true practice begin.
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