My Buddhist teacher gave a dharma talk that was mostly him being silent and looking around at each of us again and again. It's a delightful lesson in expectation and that the dharma cannot be taught through words but only felt with the heart in a place beyond words. It's disorienting, even so, because, oh dear, the pressure is on us to do the work. Our minds and focus are all ours to control, and we're basically not ready for that. Point taken.
This weekend we spent a lot of time gardening, and then we dragged out two iron plant stands that were my parents', and somehow have survived 27 years, set them up on our patio, filled them with plants, and they look terrific and really cheer up the outside. One is filled with geraniums, since we are basically the black thumbs of Kolcut, and the other has succulents and roses and geraniums. The color of the geraniums really punches up the place. It's mighty gratifying.
We hit Trader Joe's after lunch, because I'm going up to the cabin tomorrow for a week, for a little private retreat. I haven't done it in years, and I'm really looking forward to being alone, writing, and just relaxing. I also have mysteries I bought yesterday, just in case. I even have a new bathing suit, bought Friday with my daughter. I'm all set!
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