coping mechanisms

the walking lady

the naked self

My daughter bounced onto the porch after returning from her one night meditation retreat. “How was it?” I inquired. “Mom! It was the most boring…”she began. My heart dropped, for that is what I’d feared—that once she was away from home and doing the hard work of sitting on a meditation cushion, the romance of an out-of-state overnight would evaporate. “…most wonderful time I’ve ever had!”