Uh-oh

Right now I am listening to Azalea put herself to sleep on the monitor. After a good twenty minutes of bottle and cuddling (she weaned herself at a year), sitting on my lap, sticking her fingers in my mouth, trying to button up my shirt, etc., I put her in her crib and said night-night, to which she protested for a minute, but by the time I was out the door, mindlessly (the exact opposite of mindfully) cleaning up after her increasingly spastic dinner routines (currently involving strewn chopsticks, crumbled veggie burger and crusty peas on the Chinese chairs), she had stopped the crying/yelling and had settled in to the word repertoire which signals sleep is near. Uh-oh. Wow. Bye dada. Yeah? Dah (shoe). Baba. Ssssh. Repeat. Aaah. Such sweet sounds.

It's not like I had been with her all day. In fact, my new job is taking me away from her more than ever. But that's because I am currently working several jobs, which will change very soon, as my classes come to a close and I can focus on the magazine of which I am now the managing editor. Thank god for Grace. The one-person village.I miss Azzie a lot, but at least I know she is in good hands and that this madness is temporary.

But I am f-r-i-e-d. Fried. Lacking chi. My left arm kind of aches the way it does when I don't exercise and think too much. Who cares? Well, I do, for one, but this is my long introduction to my topic of the moment: zazen is necessary.

Even on the mornings when I wake up after the sun has risen and I know I have maybe 15 minutes on my cushion before Azzie reconvenes her word play, signaling it's time to start my engines, I really, really need to do zazen. My altar is ridiculous -- candle wax everywhere, dirt in my water offering, clearly representing the state of my "practice," and it hurts me to open it, so sometimes I don't. Sometimes I just light some incense and sit in my undies and a t-shirt, whatever I happen to be wearing, because I don't want to waste the time of putting on something respectable. But I must brush my teeth. It's a far cry from the days of walking down the hill at the monastery at 3:30 am, the moon spread out over the stone walkway and everywhere else, too. It's a far cry from sitting with a group in the dark, then chanting together, creating something good and whole, together.

Across from my cushion is a list of the precepts -- a watercolor I did for Thayer for some long ago occasion. "Affirm life; don't kill" is one. "See the perfection; do not elevate the self and blame others" is another. "Practice harmony; do not be angry." These are some of my favorites, and I must say that I do know that even though my life is a bit wild right now and I am not the tidy practitioner I once was, the precepts are still my passion, my hope, and my vow.

And I also know that sitting in the morning, even briefly and robeless, nourishes not only me, my family, my friends and colleagues, but my home and everywhere else, too. It may not be the moon in the middle of the night, but it's what I have to offer in the midst of my life.



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