February 6, 2012
I sat meditation in the sun today, a warm-enough day in Cincinnati in one of the mildest winters I remember. Noting a siren scream by on Montgomery road, somewhere someone with a chain saw, I remembered stories of Thich Nat Hanh sitting in the midst of the Viet Nam war, and came back each time to the breath.
Yesterday, I did metta, slowly moving a long list of friends and loved ones, nemeses and betrayers: may they be happy, may they be well; may they know peace and ease; may they know joy and compassion. Ah….
My dreams have been potent; the Big Dreams Jung wrote abouthave been surfacing regularly since I returned to daily meditation for this challenge. It seems analogous to my hearing things I don’t normally hear until I stop moving.
I am grateful for feeling the very fibers of my mind raveling after so much unraveling.