There is a Bhuddhist monk in China who made it a regular habit to pray more than three thousand times a day in his earlier, youthful years. Now, as he reaches seven decades upon this planet, he finds himself having to scale back his devotion to a mere one thousand on average. Upon the hardwood floor of the temple, his footprints are literally etched into the wood, creating something akin to what children do when the city or your parents pour new cement near your house.
Outside of breathing, blinking and walking, I would be surprised to learn I do anything with this much regularity. There are no books on Prunes for the Soul. No Fibre rich diets for the Imagination. No Boot Camp for the Brain. I’m one of those types of people that wears my spirituality, creativity and ego on large, comfy baggy shirts that can hide the few pounds you put on while indulging at Marble Slab. Trying to compress any of that into what equates to a metronome is alien to me. Read the rest of this entry »
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