Has it been a week already, then?

A long lazy car ride with lots of reading. Living on hummus and pita; tomato, basil, kalamata and feta sandwiches. A day spent meandering around a museum learning about the Six Nations of the northeast. Evening picnics in the mountains. And the last night sitting on rocks under the waxing moon mirrored in a clear, dark lake. We loved it, both of us. Then back to Indiana to our homey little family. How did I get to be so lucky? (As for the vegetarian cafes, alas, they seem to be rare commodities in New York, too, although I found awesome little natural food stores.)

Much of the time those five days I spent trying to practice mindfulness. Focusing on the moment. A skill at which I am a very very inexperienced novice. Breathing in, I know that I am breathing in, says Thich Nhat Hanh, and I follow his instruction. So this is what I am to be learning during this quiet summer. It is prayer, to center on this moment, this here, this now, and attend to it. Where else is God to be found?

During my lapses of mindfulness, I was absolutely struck by the way the media tries to separate us from ourselves. I wasted hours on Wednesday morning watching cable television, something we don't subscribe to at home. Yikes. How can we experience one iota of mindfulness when the media is continually, yes, relentlessly (thanks for the word, Anne), telling us what to think about and above all, how to look? Here is my new vocabulary from the little personal care segments of the Today show, which blasted into the dining area of the hotel every morning: Botox, cosmetic dentistry, collagen implants. Kind of pollutes this nice little post, doesn't it?

But life goes on, and we live here, now, and Suzanne Vega, she sang to us on the way home:

"I look for you in heathered moor, the desert and the ocean floor, how low does one heart go.
Looking for your fingerprints, I find them in coincidence, and make my faith to grow."

Peace.