Pretending to Be My Dog

This is how I meditate:

I shapeshift on the floor,

blanket underneath my head

to make myself quiet.

I listen to my breathing;

I taste it, too,

the world of noise pours out one ear

and the songbirds pour into the other.

I feel the sun as an animal does, without thinking about it,

matters above my pay grade

like ozone

or temperature

or circumference.

The trick is this:

to become an empty vessel

for the vivid world around you,

not your world—

the world.

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