Yesterday my dad took a nap in my room, and mentioned liking the book beside my bed.
This morning he went back into my room to get a few things, and as I passed him on the way out, he stopped me, and, looking terribly earnest, implored: "Do you think... over break... you could bring home the little book on your bedside table? I'd really like to look at it more."
The book in question?
"Self-meditation: 3,299 mantras, tips, quotes, and koans for peace and serenity"
Some of the wisdom imparted from this book:
--"If it is false, harmful, or cruel, do not say it."
--"Bow humbly to the earth, bending over to touch your toes."
--"Bring your full self to everything to observe and feel."
I have tried to give my room a zen feeling--painting it green, accentuating with earthy colors and candles--and this book, given to me by a friend, tops it off. The sheer volume of wisdom is overwhelming, so I tend to just read one or two "tips" before I go to sleep.
That my dad wants the book is touching in a way I'm not sure I can explain. Maybe it's that I can see him trying to stretch himself beyond himself. Seeing him less vigorously defend his beliefs, seeing them begin to change. Thinking back to even five years ago, it's hard to imagine him do anything but roll his eyes at the idea of meditation and spirituality. But maybe it's me; maybe I just haven't looked hard enough.
People are sometimes so consistent that you forget they aren't automatic.
That's a bad thing to forget.
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1 comment:
my mommy talked to me about yogarelatedsubjects for an hour today.
I think after you become fifty you suddenly wake up and realize you need to find your soul.
Or something.
Anyway. It makes me think about breathing and trees more when I'm angry. Hopefully that is a productive thing.
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