As our sitting settles down into the present moment we say, “Isn’t this boring!—the cars going by, feel my knees hurting, notice my tummy growling…” We have no interest in the infinite perfection of the universe. In fact the infinite perfection of the universe might be the person sitting next to us who breathes noisily or is sweaty. The infinite perfection is this being inconvenienced: “I’m not having it my way at all.” At any moment there is just what’s happening. Yet we’re not interested in that. Instead we’re bored. Our attention goes in another direction. “Forget reality! I’m here to be
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