A recent view from my front deck.

This is my third day of recuperation from knee surgery—miniscus repair.  I’m resting and reading, getting good care from Guari, making my way around on a walker.

This “time off” couldn’t have come at a better time.  These past months I’ve been going through a transformative period in my life, and now… I’m doing one thing at a time, slowly, and following it through to the end—a great practice.  In addition to entrusting family members and the world to God’s care, my meditation and prayer have been deeply impacted, for days now, by my re-reading The Joy of Living by Yongey Mingyur Rimpoche.  He presents the basics of Buddhist teachings and relates them to the cutting edge of neuroscience in elegantly simple language.

I’m so ready for this further breakthrough that I feel myself going through—if only I can stay true to myself and to “what is”—the Absolute, Truth, the Great Mystery, the Dharma, the Tao, the Holy Spirit, the Mind of Christ, Love, God.  No, these words don’t all mean the same thing.  Each tradition offers unique insights and points to unique experiences.  But they are all ways of trying to express the Ineffable, the Ground of Being through which all things come and go.

Spaciousness.  Blessed spaciousness.  Peace.  Joy.  The joy of living.

I’m feeling profoundly grateful.  A song we sang at a recent singing circle expresses it well:

“A million tomorrows shall all pass away, ere I forget all the joy that is mine today.”

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