The Sieve

This is my dorje. My friend Matthew gave this to me a while ago. It now occupies a tiny space above my typewriter...er, I mean, keyboard. Basically, a dorje is a stylized Tibetan Buddhist rendition of a lightning bolt or staff of holy power. It's the symbol of the kinetic spark that exists between the terrestrial and the celestial, the mundane and the divine, the relative and the absolute...you get the idea. Heavy shit.

I won't lie to you. This has been another rough week. A gauntlet run. A dues-paying week. When will I no longer be paying these ethereal dues? I dunno. By the looks of things, this is just my life. And I don't mean wah-wah, self-deprecate, self-deprecate, poor me, pity me. Just that I should get used to the idea, once again, that the long haul is called a "long haul" for a reason: It ain't easy hauling freight. So, for now, I dip my dorje into my mind and try to remember compassionate Submission to a Force that's a whole Hell of a lot together than I'll ever scheme to be.

And I'll work on my stories. And grade the papers. And try to make friends with time that runs like a sieve...

p.s. props to Paulie & Rah for general heart chakric awesomeness.