Two weeks ago this time yesterday, I was just sitting in a train station in Seattle. Two weeks!
In the weeks preceding that, I was stressing about how to get "everything I could not do without" into my pack. I bought a pack more than double the size of my original pack, and still didn't fit it all in.
I've been shedding things since then, and am pretty sure it won't be long before this pack is far more than I need. Keep this up long enough, and I'll become the monk I set out to be three and a half years ago. (Only three and a half years?!)
Since I've arrived at my mom's house we've watched three movies (probably eight hours), and three and a half hours of TV. I haven't been here for forty-eight hours, and I've slept for twenty of those. I remember Geshe Michael Roach talking about returning from a three-year retreat and spending days watching movies. So I don't feel too bad. But I've only been "gone" two weeks! Am I just throwing myself into comfort? When I hit the road again in a month, will it be as painful as these past two weeks have been?
Yes. That's the point.
It's like being on fire.
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