Stumbling Toward the Buddha
Dawn Downey writes stories about Mindfulness, Gratitude and Transformation
Stumbling Toward the Buddha
Fired.
My brother, the college professor, got laid off. After six months, from a job it took him three years to find.
We commiserated by skype, with half a continent between us. I threatened to go out there to California and set those people straight. (I didn't called them "people.")
My brother slumped in his chair. "It makes me sick to think about going on another job interview." He barely moved. It was hard to tell he was ... << MORE >>
Problems?
Emails. Phone Calls. Bills. Deadlines. My problems were too big for their britches.
I hauled them to the car and drove to my favorite park, a strip of flood plain sandwiched between the river and the railroad tracks. I parked, opened the windows. The ground shook. An eastbound Burlington Northern thundered through a crossing. Its air horn blasted. The engine labored against its mile-long string of cars, loaded with coal from the mines of Montana. Just ahead, the silent Missouri River crawled toward St. Louis.
I let the wind ... << MORE >>
Birthday Celebration
A winter draft sneaking under the blanket woke me up. The clock read 5:17 a.m. on my sixty-first birthday. Hallelujah.
At this hour decades earlier, twenty-year-old Dawn had just run out of time to finish the term paper due that day. Thirty-year-old Dawn gulped aspirin to tamp down a hangover . . . caused by the previous night's attempt to outrun her misery. Forty-year-old Dawn rose from her shared bed to wonder how things had gone so wrong.
At 5:17 a.m. on my ... << MORE >>
My Sister's Face
My face disappeared. In the bathroom mirror, I looked wrinkled. In the closet mirror, my skin was smooth. In the make-up mirror, I had dark circles. In the car, my eyes were bright. I didn't know which reflection was real. I had no idea what I looked like.
The day I skyped my sister, Michelle, her face filled my computer screen. The expressions that danced across it were mine. Our hairlines matched. Our noses, too. When she laughed, I saw my teeth. (She laughed a lot that day and so did I.)
There's my face. Michelle's been wearing it. It's beautiful.
Dear Lovely Subscribers
I'm sorry... I hit the wrong button on my blog and published something by mistake. Please ignore if you received a post that says "The house."
Facebook Friend Finale
"XX wants to be friends with you," the email said.
XX and I had dated for a decade. I left abruptly…after he raped me. For forty years, I've ignored and dreaded his attempts to reconnect.
I tapped delete.
A screen appeared. "Do you know XX outside of FB?"
Unexpected discernment answered, "No."
Another screen. "...won't be able to send you any more friend requests."
Voila. Vaporized. Forty years a stalker. Now, only a ghost in the collective imagination.
XX and I had dated for a decade. I left abruptly…after he raped me. For forty years, I've ignored and dreaded his attempts to reconnect.
I tapped delete.
A screen appeared. "Do you know XX outside of FB?"
Unexpected discernment answered, "No."
Another screen. "...won't be able to send you any more friend requests."
Voila. Vaporized. Forty years a stalker. Now, only a ghost in the collective imagination.