Sitting in the moment . . . with everything that is . . . all of it is welcome.
This moment . . . This heart space . . .
The statute of blaming your parents for anything has expired.
There was a guy who attended meetings regularly with me in sincity who was rough in appearance. He was missing most of his upper teeth. His front upper teeth. I considered him with some dismissive arrogance and then found out he read more than I do and I read a lot. I was judging a good book by its cover. That dude taught me a lot about humility. MY humility and how deficient it was.
One of the apartments we stayed in had shutters you could lower at night. I love those shutters. They make the bedroom as dark as a tomb and who wouldn't want to sleep in a tomb? One of the windows had a placard warning the user not to completely raise the shutter because it wasn't working properly. The shutters were operated by turning a crank and part of the way through the operation the handle just came off in my hand. It looked like something that could be fixed easily but not by me. I have the mechanical aptitude of a rock. Before we left I messaged the host about the handle and she replied a few days later with pictures of the broken handle and a message that I would paraphrase roughly along these lines: "Hey. What the fuck?!" Defensive Seaweed plays defense by ginning up a big offense. I wanted to point out that the shutters had some existing problems and she had better not fuck with me on getting this thing fixed. Or something demonstrating a similar level of spiritual growth. Instead, I apologized for any upset and asked how I could make it better. It's a great convenience to be able to stay in an apartment with a kitchen and extra room for stays of a week or so. I believe this defused the entire situation and she followed up to say that it had been a quick and easy repair.
Wasn't this nice? This was a lot nicer than it used to be. I always made things worse.
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