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If we wish to change the person we find ourselves to be, we must change our thinking.
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August 18th, 2019
Lucilius was contemplating a detail of a recent project when he realized he’d forgotten to message a friend about an upcoming dinner he wouldn’t be able to make. It reminded him of the last time they’d gotten together. The food had been spectacular, particularly a dish of sunchokes. He could probably recreate the dish himself he realized. And how much better would it all taste if he grew everything himself. Something to keep in mind for the future. He’d always wanted to build a cabin up in the north, and of course it would have a huge garden where he could plant everything to his heart’s content. He’d tried to do his best with an urban plot once but his work had kept him away from the untended ground. Some things he’d planted had popped up, and along with them so many other things. Weeds and what not. Things always popping up, he thought, and felt himself sigh at the tiring thought. But it was this sense of his body in space, his chest falling that allowed his mind to stumble off the train of thought. Lucilius realized, remembered really, that he was sitting on a cushion, and had been for several hours. He was on a silent retreat, and it was the third day, and he smiled, amused, as his practice kicked him back into the present.
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