Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence


Struggling with myself here. Deeply unhappy, mired in unskillful behaviors, intent on being yet more unskillful. Lost and determined to get more so, willful in my unhappiness.

Listless in my practice. Longing for immersion and the sunlight of clarity, yet with my hands clapped over my eyes, moaning and crying to drown out the song of beauty being constantly sung by the world.

No one to blame but myself and stubbornly looking outward as the source of my unhappiness. Knowing better and doing it wrong anyway.


And watching myself do this. Somehow still feeling space around it. Somehow perfect wisdom and clarity surround my confusion even if they cannot penetrate it just yet. Acting confused, but not truly confused. I’m not buying my own bullshit, even if I can’t quite stop trying to sell it.


I think I’m behaving childishly because I feel childish. I can’t bear to face my responsibilities and I want my mommy and daddy to come in and fix them, fix things that I’ve broken, put them together again and let me climb up into their laps and have them stroke my head and hold me, rock me like a baby, soothe my jangled soul. Writing this just now makes me almost weep for wanting it, not having realized it before.

I see my grandkids doing the same thing at times, the older boy wanting to be the baby- and wanting to hit the baby for replacing him- maybe I’m just too sensitive to the dynamics, to the emotional storms of those around me and I’m picking up on that. My daughter is lost and bewildered so I am lost and bewildered. She’s adrift so I’m adrift. My wife is off somewhere so I’m off somewhere.

Kaleb needs his diaper changed and so do I.


The one constant is that the dharma swirls around and interpenetrates all of this all the time. I’m always reading, studying, and contemplating and trying to integrate through practice and especially in post-meditation trying to observe, observe, observe- to let go, to abandon the narrative, to put down my view of things and simply be open to the things themselves. But it’s a recursive, fractal, repetitive spinning loop. Awareness penetrates confusion to reveal a deeper confusion that awareness then dives into. There’s clarity and then another wave swamps me and leaves me gasping. Tumbling. Incoherent. Light, darkness, light, darkness. lightdarklightdarklightdark.

all one.


And trying to accept this in myself. Accept it and do the right thing anyway. Despite my protestations. Okay, things are fucked up. I’m fucked up and making things worse and feeling self-pity and still. Let’s go forward anyway. Let’s not keep making it worse and worse on top of bad. Let’s just let this be bad enough for us and move on.

I don’t know.

I can see where I want to be- it’s right over there, just on the other side of the glass. I’ve been there, I know that place!

See what I mean? I keep thinking it’s somewhere else! Ha.

I slay myself.


This is why I practice. This is what practice is for. Even when I don’t feel it. Especially then. Especially then.




May all beings find happiness and the cause of happiness.

May they be free from suffering and the cause of suffering.

May they abide in great equanimity, free from attachment and aversion to those near and far.