maybe i'll become a monk

Everyone thinks of changing the world,

but no one thinks of changing himself.

- Leo Tolstoy

I went to the book store the other night.

I was picking up my son at a friend’s house at 9pm,

so I decided to drop into a local book store

for a bit before I picked him up.

My mind’s been going a little crazy lately –

all over the place.

So when I walked into Chapters that night,

here's what was going on in my head:

So I'm back at work. Again.

If i know I don't fit in there,

why do I keep going back?

For the same reason everyone else works.

For money.

I can’t believe Donald Trump made it this far.

I'm afraid terrorism has become the new normal.

So much anger in the world.

I miss mom…

I think back at when she was in the hospital,

and how much she suffered.

Life isn't always easy.

I wish _____ didn't drink so much.

I wish _____ was more at peace with himself.

I’m so happy _____ met _____.

They seem so good together.

I think it takes a lot of courage to divorce.

Some couple just shouldn’t stay together.

They start out ok, but something happens along

the way & they lose one another.

Too many people stay together

for the wrong reasons.

I loved that movie we watched

about Jean-Michel Basquiat.

I love that he did his own thing.

I hate that drugs took over his life

and we lost him much too soon.

I wonder if I'll ever "make it" as an artist?

And what does that really mean anyway?

To be in a gallery?

To be known?

To die young & tormented?

I'm so happy I have writing and art.

Being an artist is more about

how you feel on the inside

than about what happens on the outside.

It's about knowing your heart.

What more needs to be said & done?

So I walk into Chapters

with these thoughts flying through my head

like birds around a branch

and I stop at the first table I see.

Books on meditation and well-being and yoga.

Not books I would normally look at.

I pick up a small book by Thich Nhat Hanh,

the Vietnamese Buddhist monk,

on brush painting.

I flip to a page,

and I see these beautifully

hand brushed words:

a cloud never dies.

And all at once,

my mind was quiet.

I began to picture a blue sky,

with a slow moving cloud…

the way it moves and changes

and rearranges itself in the sky

– and then it slowly dissipates.

At one point, 

it is there

and moments later

it is gone.

I stood there with the book in my hands,

staring at the beautiful,

simple brush strokes…

imagining his hand writing

these few simple words

that said so much me

in that one moment.

My thoughts dissipated

just like the cloud.

And I understood.

All of the buzzing in my head

only moments before

no longer mattered.

It never had.

Life is suffering

and confusing

and frustrating at times.

But it is also beauty and truth and love.

These opposites always co-exist

and always will.

I can choose to go against the tide – or with it.

I can choose to see only darkness

or to see both light & dark.

I can choose to be the suffering,

or I can choose to be the dissipating cloud.

I much prefer being the cloud.

Thank you all for being here.

Wishing you all a fabulous weekend!