“Mommy, make your next book not about Zen. The whole idea of Zen is bogus.”
Pause here before you rush in to soothe my bruise; to bolster my case. There is no purer truth than what she uttered here. No finer precision, nothing clearer. If only I could do it, really do it, then I would earn my place as the dimwit ancestor of the wisest, choicest, sassy ass eight-year-old Master of the Milky Way.
You go, girl! Show me the back door straight out of bogus, as you always do. Truth is more beautiful than beauty treatments.
This is Not to Be Forgotten Week on the Road, where we share Some Things Said.