The Undeveloped Mind

Sometimes as I’m reading the Dhammapada, I am overcome with memories of other times I was reading it, in a foreign airport waiting for the red eye, in an urban sangha between sittings, in a nondescript park on a bench with lovers initials scrawled into its dry wood panels, in my dormitory in the foggy light of dawn. Sometimes when I read the Dhammapada I wonder why I don’t read it more often, I wonder why I neglect my spirit, I wonder why my memories are so vivid and razor sharp around the edges of my exhausted heart, I wonder why I wonder so much and do so very little.


About A B

"There is all this untouched beauty, the light, the dark, both running through me." -Over The Rhine
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