Okay, here I am. I made a promise that I would write every day in my blog. Later then usual, past eight, but a promise is a promise. This is, for me, a practice of not being too hard on myself about the way I arrange words and ideas in sentences. Thought forms are constantly changing and so too are the ideas and words, I wish to convey. I need to trust that what comes through this mind and this body through this keyboard on to this field in this blog is okay. However, I find both in the written and spoken word when I make a statement or opinion, my thoughts on it are likely to change as it is coming out of my mouth or through my fingertips. Thus is the changeable nature of the world of form. No thing stays the same. Every thing that is of the nature to be born is also of the nature to decay and die. In fact, birth is a death sentence. However, what we do between our first gasp and our last is a wonderful, ever unfolding, ever changing dance. Somehow being okay with change and on speaking terms about death simply sweeten this activity of living. It is an art to learn how to savour each bite of life without clinging, without aversion, without comparing what it tasted like in the past or thinking it will be better in the future.
How wonderful and mysterious!
.. . . In which a pig piñata project becomes a metaphor for life. If pigs could fly, it would be like a pigger pointing at the moon. This is not a place to collect sign posts. The pig as us!
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