
My husband Jon, in a quiet moment. Photo by Barbara Falconer Newhall
By Barbara Falconer Newhall
I’ve tried meditating a few times – a very few times. I’m well read on the subject, however. Indeed, I’ve spent way more time reading about meditation than I’ve spent doing it.
Why would I want to just sit there observing my mind, I reason, when I could be outdoors pulling dead blossoms off the shamelessly prolific rhododendron in our front yard? Those blossoms snap off their stems with such a satisfying pop.
(I do nothing to make that plant bloom. Yet year after year it sucks up dirt and rainwater and blasts dozens of grandiose purple-blue blossoms into our tiny front yard. Hardly anybody notices this plant or its outrageous flowers. It produces them anyway.)
So – why would I want to just sit there, meditating? I could be calling my son [Read more...]








