Damn you zafu

(Stepping back onto the path)

As I lay in bed, propped against two large white pillows my eyes dart nervously from the chair to the plant, then come to rest on my meditation cushion.

"It's all your fault cushion.  It's you who held me upright, urging me on until the bell. It's you who beacons me into the corner in the dark of night. You made me turn off the TV, you made me hand wash the dishes, you made me love those new little chip card readers in my favorite grocery store because now I get to listen to the cashier tell me about their day during the wait. I love that, you know I love that! You've slowed my pace, accomplishing less...I no longer strive to be somebody. Somebody who looks great in heels and chemically straightened hair. Damn you zafu."

I can't take it, I grab up the phone and begin to type this. Anything to rid me of the anxiety caused by this new found silence. This silence that will 'cure' me. 



It's time to sit again.