The Detritus Pocket

SPIRITUAL HYGIENE

Sometimes I still forget to meditate — well, more

of a neglecting than forgetting, to be honest

with you, even though I tell myself I’ll meditate

at noon, and I intend to. My authentic self

knows better and it sends a message to my

mind to that effect. My mind, however, blows it

off or stuffs it in the pocket set aside for an

assortment of

(a)   brain lint

(b)   minor obligations (if that’s not an
oxymoron) I’ve forgotten or put off

(c)   untidy thoughts

(d)   that vague uneasiness about who-knows-
what-all, and

(e)   one peppermint that melted in its twist of
cellophane and then collected grit and the
ubiquitous odd penny now and
permanently welded to it.

I call it “the detritus pocket.” Meditation tidies it.