I have spent a lot of time trying to read about being Zen and detachment and all that jazz.
http://zenhabits.net/zen-attachment/ that article has been open in one of my tabs since August.
Always open.
I glance at it everyday just to see if any of it makes sense, to see if I can be Zen too by practicing some of the things it talks about. Do read it sometime. It is thought provoking.
And the more i read it the more i realise that it takes a lot of effort to be Zen. Some of it sounds brilliant on paper but nearly impossible to implement in real life. And the more I read it the more I realise I have someone around me who practices it on a daily basis without giving a damn about the difference between the philosophy and the car.
My dad is Zen.
He is! I kid you not.
He is totally Zen.
And the best part is
he doesn't know it.
I can't believe I am actually going to type the last sentence of this blog. I have spent hours, days and years vehemently fighting it, protesting, kicking and screaming against the very notion. I have debated long and hard (don't go thats what she said on me now, I am actually typing something very serious! Oh god, I can't help it. That's what she said!!!) with people around about parent child relationships and how they have such a great influence in our lives and all that. I have struggled to accept the fact that my parents have shaped my life in more ways than I would like to accept in public. But then that was before, when I was a rebellious, hot blooded, testosterone influenced youngster, who had to take the other side just for the heck of it, who had to argue because I liked a good debate, and went so far as to believe in the sides I took even though I sometimes realised that I wasn't always right. Now, I am older, with a slightly broader perspective on life, having encountered my share of deaths and defeats and defenselessness.
Okay here I go, and I will never be able to say it out loud, never be able to admit this to anyone anywhere inebriated or otherwise, never admit in court or elsewhere that it was me who typed this out, in my senses, in a state of mind that would be considered normal by society standards.
I wish I could be like my dad.
http://zenhabits.net/zen-attachment/ that article has been open in one of my tabs since August.
Always open.
I glance at it everyday just to see if any of it makes sense, to see if I can be Zen too by practicing some of the things it talks about. Do read it sometime. It is thought provoking.
And the more i read it the more i realise that it takes a lot of effort to be Zen. Some of it sounds brilliant on paper but nearly impossible to implement in real life. And the more I read it the more I realise I have someone around me who practices it on a daily basis without giving a damn about the difference between the philosophy and the car.
My dad is Zen.
He is! I kid you not.
He is totally Zen.
And the best part is
he doesn't know it.
I can't believe I am actually going to type the last sentence of this blog. I have spent hours, days and years vehemently fighting it, protesting, kicking and screaming against the very notion. I have debated long and hard (don't go thats what she said on me now, I am actually typing something very serious! Oh god, I can't help it. That's what she said!!!) with people around about parent child relationships and how they have such a great influence in our lives and all that. I have struggled to accept the fact that my parents have shaped my life in more ways than I would like to accept in public. But then that was before, when I was a rebellious, hot blooded, testosterone influenced youngster, who had to take the other side just for the heck of it, who had to argue because I liked a good debate, and went so far as to believe in the sides I took even though I sometimes realised that I wasn't always right. Now, I am older, with a slightly broader perspective on life, having encountered my share of deaths and defeats and defenselessness.
Okay here I go, and I will never be able to say it out loud, never be able to admit this to anyone anywhere inebriated or otherwise, never admit in court or elsewhere that it was me who typed this out, in my senses, in a state of mind that would be considered normal by society standards.
I wish I could be like my dad.
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