There's a wee bit of me that thinks I should be somewhere else. It's always on my shoulder, whispering this in my ear. You know you should be somewhere else, JohnnyBoy. The lama looked the hut over. I know she wants me to sit in the hut. I would like to sit in the hut. There must be reasons why I don't do that. One of them is that it would take a while to settle in. Also, it is a kind of deprivation and you'd want to be sure that you were depriving yourself to some purpose. There are no signposts and no lights on this path. You just have to keep on keeping on, and who knows to what end. So you have to have an awful lot of confidence in where this meditation stuff is all going, and I don't think I have that in sufficient quantities. But the summer slips by. I did sleep over once. Dearie me.
Uncertainty enters my life in July. The deities come lose from their positions on the mandala and move around. Sometimes they come from abroad. You have to stop and see them. You know you should be somewhere else. It's the same around Christmas and New Year. People appear.
I'd like to see the people when they appear if I'd been behaving myself when they weren't around. I'm always wanting to be somewhere else. Or maybe, I'd like to be someone else. A more contented joe. Happy just being here. I'd rather be there, up the allotment.
The lowest photie is of wheat. It flew in. Someone told me it was wheat because you can take its photie and your phone will tell you what it is. Wheat. Beam me up. It's a lovely bit of grass, wheat. I'll keep the seeds and plant them in the spring, and they won't grow, but that's alright. I am the worst gardener in the world, but I like the surprises.
