While I’d still really like to get a regular meditation practice going again, I’m finding that the evening prayer practice I’ve developed fits the same niche relatively well. In particular, I can tell that it’s pushing at least some of the same internal buttons, because it has the same effect of making my dreams be vivid, memorable, and hand-delivered straight from the Universal Department of WTF. The undersea one the other day was really neat, and remarkably lacking in the normal fear my subconscious usually associates with the ocean. I could have done without the tree-climbing tyrannosaurs, though (those were in a different dream).
Last night there was chicken pie. Mmmm…pie. My body has been going “it’s getting cold! must stock up on saturated fats!”. But I think schmaltz pie-crust has now thoroughly satiated that impulse, because now what sounds good for lunch is some of that chicory from the farmshare, with balsamic vinegar and apples and maybe some toasted pecans. And I think there’s another whole-wheat bagel left.