A taste of honey

I can read about honey until the bovines are back but until I put it on my tongue, I remain a well-informed idiot on honey. What I know is not what I think.

The being-ness of beauty

How does a single cut flower, so still, silent and surrendered, convene the attention of an entire room, then ‘float’ that room with beauty and aliveness and love? Well, not by doing anything.

The rhythm of love

To be who I am—to breathe from my heels, as Taoist master Chuang Tzu specified—it will be immediately helpful to relinquish past and future. Why? There’s no breath there. No rhythm.

My personal staff

My personal staff consists of a mind, heart and body (MHB). Their job is to look after things so I’m free to be who I AM during this little sojourn. Altogether it’s a pretty good arrangement. Special props to B for digesting my food.

The end of effort

Effort happens when the mind fights with itself, when two inimical desires feud with one another, e.g. “Do it!” “Don’t want to!” No natural process involves a descent into civil war. Politicians like to say they’re working hard. A damaged planet pleads: Stop that!