I didn't want to go to work today. My back
hurt, probably from tennis
yesterday. Self-care is important
so I took a bath first, a good pound of epsom
salt in the mix. It did the trick!
Rode to work under cathedrals
of trees with stained glass leaves.
(Biking
beats driving, even
when raining.) I still wasn't in
a working mood when
I got there, so I sat on back stoop drinking
coffee from home, puffing a
clove,
and regarding sunlight on some
small boulders next door.
I found them uncannily comforting and it got
me to wondering
about the power of zen
rock gardens. Work was heavy and dirty,
pulling up carpets and tearing down ceilings.
The lath came down
easy and the
last of the plaster clattered on the floor.
But one must
be careful even in this simple
thing. One 6"edge piece
of lath catapulted free,
whizzed past my ear
like an irate insect as
it shot across the room.
The ceiling held other
surprises, too: a dangling
flattened rat mummy, tiny
blown glass bottle, and a
tin
lard can (copyright 1919).
Once I get to working, I like it, but I
cut the day short
because I was weary
of dust, wanted to go home to sit
in
the sun, free of striving, present but
empty, just like those rocks.
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