what i should be doing is getting some rest. we've a holiday - presidents' day, a combination of both george washington's and abe lincoln's birthdays - and we have the day off. after a bit of cleaning the garden i'm feeling rather pooped, as is anna and nicholas. we all have a cold now, and my head feels like an over-inflated balloon and my energy level is that of a dead 9 volt battery.

instead i just read a really good book by swedish poet lars palm: mindfulness. i sort of expected a series of poems about buddha nature and such. rather palm's poems are iterations on the same theme with subtle variations of the poems structure. these are 20 line poems each with their own titles, and upon first look they seem to be the same poem. but here i guess is where 'mindfulness' comes into play. read the poems carefully and what you'll find is a playfulness in regard to syntax and diction. what appears to be the same are often quite dissimilar in tone and meaning. perhaps it is about buddhism after all. one of the first things, i think, one learns in buddhist practice is to carefully pay attention.