Kaisertations
Kaiser, the hundred-pound hound dog, nuzzled my neck like a baby at 7:30 this morning.
He worries about the thunder and lightning, I imagine, much like the way I worry about emotional unease. He thinks the world is going to smush him. So, at 7:30, I stroked his silky hound ears in understanding.
A recent teacher advised me to, every night, put my toothbrush under my cushion, so I don't leave the house without meditating. I shall not brush my teeth until I have been mindful. I shall not brush my teeth until I have been mindful.
I bring myself back to an out-breath as Kaiser screeches and squeaks outside the door. At 7:45, he is probably making sad eyes and nursing a shimmering strand of drool.
He worries about the thunder and lightning, I imagine, much like the way I worry about emotional unease. He thinks the world is going to smush him. So, at 7:30, I stroked his silky hound ears in understanding.
A recent teacher advised me to, every night, put my toothbrush under my cushion, so I don't leave the house without meditating. I shall not brush my teeth until I have been mindful. I shall not brush my teeth until I have been mindful.
I bring myself back to an out-breath as Kaiser screeches and squeaks outside the door. At 7:45, he is probably making sad eyes and nursing a shimmering strand of drool.
posted by mel @ 1:24 PM
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