I'm sitting here feeling very negative about the abomination that is I. My familiar patterns, the abominations, have taken hold. I behave in exactly the manner I despise myself for on a nearly daily basis. I believe that I've lost any ability I once possessed to invoke my warrior's discipline and refrain from these activities that I abhor. Those of you that became interested in reading this site because of the once frequent musings and reflections on my meditation practice, I apologize but I've had little to say on the matter. I haven't been sitting as much I would like, and when I do I find the whole thing fairly routine at this point. I've long since entered the stage where practice is difficult, and I practice too much alone. I employ greater discipline when sitting with sangha, something I rarely get the opportunity to do. Maybe I can convince Tak to meditate with me when she arrives...which is quite soon, I might add. I am working with a particular aspect of the Shambhala teachings that involves discipline. I've come to realize that I have grown arrogant and bloated in my practice as well as my overall demeanor. Understanding the teachings comes too easily to me in some ways, which feeds this arrogance, which in turns feeds my aggression and wild, untamed mind. The antidote to this is discipline, which is not the sort of discipline where you thwack yourself with a cane and beat yourself up in the manner in which I opened this entry. It is more like the discipline of returning to the object of one's meditation, but in all areas of one's life. I suppose, in that way, your life becomes the meditative object. The whole thing has become such a struggle--life, that is, or at least I think that's what I'm referring to--that I've elected to choose one aspect of my life as my case study in remaining disciplined. I am working to keep one part of my life under control, and have thus had to choose an area of my life that I know it is actually possible to do this with. I have thus decided that the starting point of re-engaging with my practice of discipline gone awry shall be to keep the bathroom clean, which is difficult to do with a six year old child and two roommates that should have been hippies. I've actually already cheated because I've been waiting to ask Nyensa Chödpa to clean up some whiskers he's littered the soap dish with. Have to get right on that when I get home. There's a homeless man on the street that reminds me of a leper because he wears multiple layers of long black robes, even in the heat. Yesterday he even had a leather jacket on over the robes, and the smell he gives off is incredible, probably more so than other men without access to showers because he has so many layers of clothes. I keep catching myself starting to shut off my ability to smell when we pass one another on the street, and when I do I always make sure to take a deep breath. The warrior always maintains their discipline and dives into the dignity that is life, even if he or she doesn't like the smell.