Sleepless night for lots of us last night, I suppose. Unfathomable grief everywhere. I sit and meditate and a mantra pops in my head and I don't like it: What Impends. The words claw at me and I bat the thoughts away. But still. Does impend always indicate doom? Can serenity impend? Joy? What impends. As mantas go, it's more of a statement than a question. I look for the connection and the connection is there, although on the surface it makes no sense. I guess that's the way of meditation, connections grow organically and later I may see the logic. The connection is to art: high art that requires work to appreciate. I have issued a challenge to myself to consume what does not come easily: symphonies, poetry, complex fiction, postmodern art. What is the connection of art to a full-blown tragedy of epic proportions? I have no idea.
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Meditation is not about ambition. It is about intention. It is not about doing it right or being the best or even about becoming enlightened. It is about sitting in stillness for twenty minutes every day. That’s all. Now, see what happens.