Stuff I write about
My son patiently snuggled on my lap during a Sunday morning dharma teaching about living in samsara. As I took in my wise teacher’s thoughts about nurturing compassion in the face of bad drivers, mean governors and crappy news, he pulled out a pad of paper and some crayons.
Oh, imperfection. Impermanence. How beautiful it can be. I think this is the best phonetic spelling ever.