back from dathun
In most of the self-portrait pictures I took all month long, I looked profoundly sleepy. I often was.
I sat. I walked. I sat. I ate oryoki. I sat. I angsted. I sat. I ate oryoki. I sat. I walked. I sat. I ate oryoki. Here and there, some chanting.
Profound connection to some, deeper connection to myself, irritatingly frequent appearance of my own neurosis. And I fell in love with the dharma all over again, and learned a new patience with the unvoiced parts of myself.
I breathe in a new and lasting innocence.
And I'm so glad to be home.
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