My Master
I am resting in front of the kitchen sink like a Zen Buddhist monk sitting serenely on his meditation cushion. The water is flowing, filling the left side of the kitchen sink, dishes slowly begin to submerge under the water. Scrubbing the filth away, imagining it to be the cleansing of all the impurities of my mind. I allow myself to be absorbed by the moment. Not to escape it by imagining there is someplace more fulfilling. There is nothing more worthy of my attention than what is. The future I conjure in my mind creates only anxiety or hope. But not peace. Peace is subtle and hardly noticeable. It accepts things with such grace and lets them go in the same way, like a mother bird who watches her young fly away, leaving the nest for the first time to fly into the unknown.
