Tuesday, July 1, 2008

Excuses Excuses

On Sunday, after reading this article in the NY Times Magazine, I made a plan to post about weeds and evolution early this week.

I resigned to breaking that promise late last night. My horse and cart post had morphed into something much bigger than I'd expected. My eyes were closing. And I figured I'd hit a good enough stopping point to make a partial post, go to sleep, and finish the thought today. The weeds would push deeper into the week or get the ax entirely, but I wouldn't stay up all night, and I'd blog on today.

Sleepiness is striking again, however, and I'm asking myself for another extension. Tomorrow.

Speaking of sleepiness and last weekend's NY Times Magazine, however, I'll leave you with a little Bob Thurman silliness before I call it a night.

My mother, who I see almost every day,* thinks I need to stop working so much. I need to eat more. I need to sleep more. And I need to start meditating again (non-denominationally, of course).

She's right. Probably especially about the meditation.

But I make excuses. Apparently, I'm too busy to meditate. Too tired to stay up 30 mins later at night or wake 30 mins earlier. It's ridiculous, but the strange, irrational part of my mind that makes decisions about sleep and breathing seems unconvinced of meditation's usefulness.

Maybe Bob Thurman's most recent NY Times Magazine cameo will persuade it otherwise.

Questions
columnist Deborah Solomon asked him what he thinks about when he meditates:

Usually, some form of trying to excavate any kind of negative thing cycling in the mind and turn it toward the positive. For example, when I am annoyed with Dick Cheney, I meditate on how Dick Cheney was my mother in a previous life and nursed me at his breast.

Hmmm. Tempting, right?

*Note: Mom's hugely generous contribution to the startup project is that she feeds the kitten and me almost every night. We couldn't do it without her.

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