When the energy simply flows through us, just as it flows through the grass and the trees and the ravens and the bears and the moose and the ocean and the rocks, we discover that we are not solid at all. If we sit still like the mountain Gampo Lhatase in a hurriane, if we don’t protect ourselves from the trueness and the vividness and the immediacy and the lack of confirmation of simply being part of life, then we are not this separate being who has to have things turn out our way.
Yesterday would have been the two-week mark of my vegetarian quest. Instead, I was given cake in another outpouring of grace in the classroom. To decline would have been rude, so the quest was foiled again in a delightfully yummy way. Whenever my quest “fails” I tend to go on a brief, carnivorous rampage. Yesterday was no exception. I found a little antique store with a sandwich shop in the town square and ordered a sun-dried tomato and spinach quiche, the idea of which was much more appetizing than the actual. I couldn’t finish it. So much for my carnivorous rampage.