Sometimes the only purpose pains serves is distraction. Or is it? It calls my attention, but I have no answer. When there is nothing can be done, why doesn’t it just go away? Instead, unrelenting elaborates via frustration, anger, despair.
The Buddha says to meditate on what gives you trouble. So, do I meditate on this pain coming from nowhere,? Incessant, unsolvable? This no reason, no thing, unactionable situation.
~
Behind every noise there is quiet
Letting noise be as it is
Unadorned without judgement
Peace presents itself naturally.
~
Sometimes
The cold doesn’t hurt
Or rather its sting
Is not distracting but invigorates
Air easier to breath
Not heavy with heat
From those delusions of comfort
I have been taught to crave.
~
We were on the road in Clare heading to Galway. We had found a musician named Colm Mac Con Iomaire. So, benefiting from technology we had him playing through the car speakers. The soft beauty of greys greens and daylight, Irish daylight. The yellow lines on the road seemed golden and just sticking the phone video out the window was joy enough. The road fairly empty except for ourselves, occasional farm tractor and elusive visions of the sea.
And you drove and we looked
Spoke about what we saw.
And we listened
Spoke about what we heard
Hoping the Hares Corner would come again and never end.
