We have a cushion to absorb life so that it lands a bit more softly.
It’s an accounting of sorts, this cushion, a meting out of Zen.The future is its own, the past forever gone, and life is always now–a balancing act.
Some days, I max out my Zen spreadsheet, squirreling away for the future. Or, so stuck in the past–what might have been–I lose the moments that also might have been.
On such days, my cushion is thin for I have spent my Zen trying to touch the wind.
But this is a new day, full of resources yet spent.
I think of the 3000-mile journey of the monarch butterfly. It is so Zen. Although not all monarchs live long enough to make the trek, every monarch knows the trip must be made if the species is to survive.
We are no different. In awareness, we emerge from darkness–at what age does not matter only that we do emerge–more mindful of other generations yet to come.
That’s the cushion, being alive without aversion or clinging–no stinting or gorging–just aiming for even.