Wool & fire

[a huge chunk of ice fell off a roof on Exchange Street and broke the back window of this car. His dog was inside and though traumatized was otherwise unharmed. Welcome to winter in the old port district! photo by my husband]

Monday, January 5, 2009

"No matter how we get trapped, our usual reaction is not to become curious about what's happening....Most of us just blindly reach for something familiar that we associate with relief and then wonder why we stay dissatisfied. The radical approach of bodhicitta practice is to pay attention to what we do. Without judging it we train in kindly acknowledging whatever is going on. Eventually we might decide to stop hurting ourselves in the same old ways." — Pema Chodron, The Places That Scare You


Tonight, coming home from the meeting, really wanted to get on Facebook. That had become my default — go from real community to virtual community. It sullied somewhat the clarity I'd felt in the meeting and I'd sit there feeling like I really ought to get off but would be unable.

So, instead — tonight — fixed up the rest of my dinner, and am sitting by the fire., looking at the heaps of newly washed wool drying on folded-up drying racks and towels. The colors are gorgeous and very similar to the color's of Olga's fur and also my own hair: black (the only place I differ), grey (light), charcoal, dark brown, reddish brown.