The worst horse

I’ve always been a lousy Buddhist. The “worst horse” I think they call it. Meditating on and off. Ethical when it suits me — although I try to do right. Art, on the other hand (whether verbal, textual, or sticky with paint), seems to be my “real” teacher. Follows me at a distance with a stick, comes closer and pats me on the head, withholds favors, makes me trot around and blog, opens up the world, makes me do research, lectures to me, sings to me, sends dreams, interrupts my thoughts and my work, sends down the harpies when I neglect my duties…

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2 thoughts on “The worst horse

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