Brilliance

With palms together,


Good Morning Everyone,



“The Grand Design” is on the end table beside my bed here in my hotel room. I began reading it on the walk back from the bookstore to my hotel. I like the early reference to Faynman because it reminded me that I never finished reading his Six Easy Pieces, which a friend and I were discussing on our morning walks. (Note to self, finish what you start.)



There is something about being in the presence of brilliant people, whether their brilliance is in physics or kindness that is so very inspiring. Yet, even these wonders of the universe, drop away. A book, regardless of its greatness, is not the author. And while a book can live on millennia after the author’s death, it is just not the same.



I have noticed on one of the blog sites I post on, a proclivity toward using dead writers (or living ones, for that matter) to bolster or explain points of their theory and practice of Buddhism. I would rather we begin with our own practice and work our way out. Theories of practice are unnecessary side trips: practice is the beginning and the end, whether that practice is on the cushion or through mindful hands doing everyday tasks.



The thing I so much appreciate about brilliant people is that they know this on a visceral level. Reading them is reading the story of their practice as it opens before them. We are taught to use such reads as supports to our own positions…”as so and so says…” Wouldn’t it be better to report our own experience bolstered by our own practice?



Well, no matter, it is now time for my own study of the way. To be followed by a read of Stephen Hawking.



Be well.