It’s the only way my legs bend

Into Walker where I do the Maisy thang once more.

After work I nip home, pick up the money that I promised to pay the Samye Dzong and deliver it before going to shinay. They do not realise that I promised to pay it (it’s an offshoot of missing practise sessions in the Guitar Craft At A Distance thing that recently finished) and am slightly nervous that I will be asked what I’m doing. I have a horrible feeling that I’ll tell them it was a bet that I lost (which isn’t strictly true, but…). Even though they are supposed to avoid judgement, I’m sure they’d balk at that.

I have a terrible time staying awake during the meditation, or rather I find it all too easy to slip into unconsciousness. I also, sneaking looks at the other sitters, realise that I am sitting in completely the wrong way. It’s the only way my legs bend, though, nothing else seems to work. I cast sideways glances at people, trying to work out what they’re doing. It wouldn’t do to stare at people’s legs, would it? It does explain why I find it so uncomfortable, though.

Perhaps I should take an evening class in sitting down.

I return home more relaxed though hardly blissed out, try to do a couple more things (though I’m trying to put an embargo on working in the evening after a day in-house as I end up slightly mad. Madder) and slip off to bed.

It might be a good moment to mention that the water is still dripping into my flat from above and that I have become sort of used to changing the buckets twice a day. The power of habit and all that.