Meditation

I am getting ready. Soon the ground will shift again. Or the rains will start. Or not.

Soon I should be returning to work, seeing if I have what it takes to be a writer, and opening my hood while the doctors probe my marrow and gut to see if I need a third oil change and new set of filters.

Like Noah and the flood, will I need to be wiped clean again with another transplant and given a chance to start again?

Rabbi Alan Lew, may his memory be a blessing, just died last month. The title of one of his books tells it all: Be still and get going.

I am reading The Art of War by  Sun Tzu again. Maybe the answer is there. Then Proust is on my list. Not sure why. I am attending lectures on Jewish mysticism and meditation. I am searching for a way to probe the unknowns. 

This weekend is the Writer's Conference in San Diego where it will be show time with several agents and publishers. And you thought I was brave having a transplant. This is scary.

You can't say that I am not pushing forward. 

And sitting still.