I sat down for the first meditation at ten, a wee bit annoyed that I'd slept in, and grumpy. Got up just before twelve. I'm in half lotus these days and you can really last like that, but I hardly noticed the sore legs because they weren't really sore. Hmmm. Then I stood on my head and did a tai chi set, then I went back and meditated again. I had lunch. I lay on bed after that with the news programmes on and did the flat out bliss. Got up and meditated till the back of three when I went out to meet the consiglieri. Started meditating again about quarter to six and finished that one at the back of seven. Then I did the physical jerks, had a bath, and spoke to the Domestic Bliss. She asked about this on the wall...
" For only he who passes this way can understand it, and even he cannot describe it." It's by St John of the Cross.
"What can he not describe?" quoth she.
" He cannot describe the bliss to flatheids," said I. We have very lofty conversations in this flat.so we do.
I did not have time today to write my book. I did not finish the wee twenty pee Independent. Great bliss though, whatever that's worth. But more or less a perfect day. I'm going to open a bottle of plonko collapso now that it's ten to eleven, and the footie will be on soon. I may be back if I can think of something interesting to say. Or if I get steaming.
2 comments:
Sounds to me like the perfect recipe for depression. But then I am fairly restless.
Seems to me that balancing meditation with life should be more than meditation and watching the idiot box.
Marie! It's impossible to describe what's going on in the meditations. Impossible to be depressed with that amount of bliss! Anyway, today should be much the same, if I'm lucky. Hotboy
Post a Comment