Metta Practice at the River
The changing of the seasons is upon us... For the first time since last winter/early spring, I made my way down to the river in a fleece and mittens and my Grover flannels, and pumpkin spice coffee. I only ran into a couple of people briefly. Do you suppose they had any inkling that I slept in those flannels? The colors here, down by river, have been resistant to changing - perhaps because of the long drought we experienced this year. I watched leaves slowly fall off the river birches and maples hugging the river bank... This truly is a season of change. It seems that everyone I speak to is undergoing change of some magnitude or other. I hold my cup of coffee, taking in the expanse of the river before me - stopping to respond to a few texts - having only assimilated into the iPhone brigade barely less than twenty-four hours ago. For someone who always embraced all aspects of technology wholeheartedly, it is ironic I am the last one to come on board with this. I just couldn'...