A Lightbulb, Maybe.

(Recorded here for when I inevitably forget the clarity afforded by this particular flickering lightbulb.)

Though I’ve practiced meditation for 20 years, give or take, my capacity for non-attachment has always been wanting. Perhaps it’s a byproduct of playing at being a writer, the constant stream of thoughts masquerading as “ideas,” the relentless urge to capture them, to commit them to paper, before they’re gone, milk carton time; or, perhaps, it’s my bias towards problem-solving – I’m espe...