Zen is Eternal Life

With palms together,
Good Morning Everyone,

Dishes. They wait each morning for my hands. Lately, I have taken to washing them by hand. Hot soapy water feels like silk. Cold rinse water is a relief to the heat. And the drying cloth sooths both dish and skin. Each dish a family member. Each spoon a reminder of the sweetness added to My Little Honey's coffee. Leaning over the sink, I untuck my hips and spine, reaching upward, I feel the gentle tug in my hamstrings. Feet planted. The saltillo tile cools my heels.

Zen in the kitchen.

Shortly, Zen in the Zendo where incense waifs through the air, I will hear the candles burn, and the walls will become mirrors for this ancient, eternal soul. My back will arc a bit; I will slump a bit. Patterns will form on the wall, movies will play in my head. Some student will adjust posture, and as with a dish in the kitchen, I will be made present again.

Zen in the Zendo.

As Master Kennett wrote, "Zen is eternal life."

Be well.