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The Lazy Buddhist

"You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day, unless you're too busy; then you should sit for an hour." ~ Old Zen Saying~
“You should sit in meditation for 20 minutes a day, unless you’re too busy; then you should sit for an hour.”
~ Old Zen Saying~

I’m a lazy Buddhist.

Some days I’m more of a lazy Protestant, Hindu, Jew, Taoist, Muslim or Catholic. It just depends on how I’m feeling. I like to go with the spiritual flow, if you know what I mean.

How can I be all of those things? Well, it’s kinda like this;  I really struggle to wear the uniform of any single religion. I’m spiritual, and have found a home in my Buddhist practice. It  brought me to a much deeper understanding of my Protestant roots, and my academic study of religion.

But I’m lazy about it.

Today I put off a full day of meditation because I woke up with the same headache and sniffly nose that I went to bed with last night.

Mind you, I could have taken a seat in the meditation hall full of decongestants with a side of tissues, but it was so very much easier to stay in bed and cuddle with my 1500 count, aubergine-coloured sheets.

Granted the other folks attending today’s retreat are thankful that I didn’t come and clutter up their atmosphere with sniffles, bacteria, and a high level of shifting on my organic buckwheat hull-filled cushion, I could have gone.

Instead, I got up, had a glass of water and went back to bed, where, my body and mind rested for 5 more hours.

As usual, I made my way to my preferred coffee shop, sat back, and read the news. The piece that caught my ever-distracted eye was in the Focus section of the Globe and Mail. Crushed, by Erin Anderssen was a bell back to some thought about my own practice, and how, when I need it the most, I abandon it like a kitten distracted by an ant.

I have been worrying a lot lately. A lot. Worry is something that used to drive me toward my goals and accomplishments. Now it just drives me to bourbon, quick fixes and eventually, back to my breath.

Friendships wax and wane. Everyone has their own problems, and let’s face it, even though you may ask for someone to share their perspective, decisions have to be made with your very own unique concoction of rational thought and intuition. I tend to go heavy on the rational thought, and overboard on the intuition.

In the past, decisions that I’ve made from a place of fear or worry have been quick fixes that offered only temporary satisfaction.

For a week I’ve been stewing over something pretty hard. A simple ten minute session on my cushion mid-week, just before bedtime,  offered some release, and the most solid night of sleep I’ve had in months. I woke up with a new perspective.

So today I missed a great opportunity to share sacred, even holy, space with other people who know the power of practice within the safe space of a sangha. Instead, I chose to rest my own body and mind.

I felt guilty about not going, but then I decided to be at peace with peace. Both at letting myself get some solid rest, and for making a decision that wavered contrary to popular opinion. Just to be sure, I did some math, and realized that both my intuition and rational thought process were right on the money.

This week I had expressed my fears, hopes and thoughts to my friends, soliciting their perspectives and advice. They offered support  when I had come to a conclusion, and confided that with regard to this matter that was on my mind, I had made a poor decision before. I had to agree, and then, after calming my mind, I had to disagree.

This is life. Lived uniquely on our own, despite being surrounded by people; some caring, some sent teachers, and some we will never know.

Am I a lazy Buddhist, or am I just one who, working intensely with human loss each and every day, needed some space?

Breathing room and solitude are often mistaken for sloth. Don’t let anyone else’s ideas fool you.

When in doubt, hit the floor and give yourself ten for  zen. You won’t be disappointed, I promise.


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He is Enough

“How many of you have ever started dating because you were too lazy to commit suicide?”~Judy Tenuda~
“How many of you have ever started dating because you were too lazy to commit suicide?”
~Judy Tenuda~


Enough. That was the single word on the placard that hung above the chair of my friend’s father just prior to his death.

Enough, as in; I’ve had enough of everyone else’s shit, or Enough as in; I am content because I have enough.  That’s the question isn’t it?

What is enough?

At this stage of life, I’ve had enough. Enough heartache, enough rejection, enough disappointment, and enough of other people’s crap.

But I also have enough. Enough joy during the time I spend with my child. Enough money to pay the rent and buy food. Enough friendship to buoy me up when I feel like I’m drowning.

Enough is a powerful word, and something that my generation needs to consider. What is enough from a partner or spouse? What is enough from a job or a pay cheque, and what is enough when you combine it all to say that you are ‘happy’?

It seems like today “enough” is so much more than what we need.

I have everything that I need. I am healthy. I am educated. I am employed. I have a healthy child.  I have enough…..and yet, every day I wish for more…..a man who loves me, total elimination of debt, a Caribbean vacation, and of course, a pay raise.

During the past few weeks I’ve had the chance to talk to a few men, and ladies, you need to trust me on this one, you need to be cognizant of what is enough in your relationships.

Yes, I do understand, you wonderful, fabulous, very sexy and sensuous ladies want a man who can appreciate the delicate creatures that you are. You want flowers and jewels and hot, passionate love-making. I can’t fault you for that. I would like that too.

What you need to consider is that, at this stage and age, the men in our lovely lives have been through hell and back trying to please our younger, less sophisticated selves.

A loving man, is enough. He may be quiet. He may be shy. He may be a  wild tiger in bed just waiting to be unleashed by a sensitive, sensual lover like yourself.

Think twice before you let him go. He may just be….enough 😉

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Why Nice Guys Finish Last First, then First Last

Nice Smile
Nice Smile (Photo credit: Tobyotter)

Yes, it’s a quite a bit to wrap your pretty little heads around, but eventually it makes sense.

Have a long pull on your short bourbon ladies, and settle in to tell us the story of the one who got away, or, if you’re anything like the bitch I’ve been, the one ( or hundreds) you pushed away.

So, let’s get down to the naked truth shall we my sweet little puddin’ pies?

Why Nice Guys (ultimately) Finish First…

1) Eventually we understand that a man of his word is better than a man of sleazy charm.

2) Nice stays nice. It’s kind, and cozy, and something you want to be around for a long, long, long, long time.

3) Eventually not-so-nice-guys wear thin on false-promises, and hedging their bets that some other chick will come along for a cheap thrill.

4) Nice is hot. Assholes are not.

5) Women can look forward to a nice guy. Anticipation is sexy and makes us warm up to give you lots of hot, creative, good-lovin’.  Not-so-nice-guys are a constant disappointment.

6) Nice guys never have an issue with their erection. It’s true darlings, don’t deny it. They’re honest with no psychological baggage to weigh down their mascot.

7) After reading #6, why read any further?

8) Gosh you’re demanding!!! Please, have another sip of that bourbon darling…. Nice guys don’t need reminding of your birthday, your anniversary, or that you need extra-special TLC on a regular basis.

9) Nice guys never forget how lucky they are to have a woman like you on their arm. They don’t scan the crowd to see what else is out there. They cherish what they have and maintain it sweetie pies.

10) Nice guys are ok with women who like to take the lead, and they feel flattered when you trust them enough to take  their turn.

Go ahead, work up your courage ladies. Pamper yourself with a hot bath, tidy up your tender bits, and get on the phone to that wonderful, nice guy that you know is out there waiting for you.  I promise you won’t be disappointed!

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Ten Traits Your Autumn Man Should Have

Autumn Stroll
Autumn Stroll (Photo credit: MTSOfan)

It is a proven fact that men and women start to settle down into warm, cozy relationships as the weather cools off. Known as cuffing season to the more cynical, autumn is also the time for settling down and getting your snuggle on with your true love.

Often, my darling gal-pals and I discuss the wonders and horrors of our manscapades. The things we love, and love-not-so-much about our deliciously delightful menfolk.

For all of you ladies out there deciding upon which man to snug in with this winter, which man you will share romantic cocktail hours with fireside, which man next to whom you will wake up, snuggle closer too, and smile because you feel like the luckiest woman in the world, I have prepared a list of qualities you should value more highly than looks or a charming smile.

1) You know he’s crazy about you. That means that he KNOWS how to make you feel comfortable and confident. There is no flibberty-jibber stuttering about how inept he is at communicating. Bad communicators are simply; A waste. Of. Time. Move along.

2) He is thoughtful and considerate of your time. In other words, he’s not chronically late. Furthermore, he is a decisive ‘date maker’ without you having to do all of the work.

3) If he has ever had an obligatory occasion to give a wonderful gal like you a gift, it was a thoughtful gift. In other words, it’s not something he knows you don’t prefer, and just bought it because it was an on-line sale and easier than going out to do the work of thoughtful gifting.

4) His  physical amorous efforts  make your nether regions become an edge-of-your-seat-fully-entertained-standing-ovation audience which is left both exhausted and eager for more. Now, keep in mind, the other nine tips listed here must also be applicable as well, because let’s face it ladies, we all like to entertain men who momentarily make us strap on our bed-spurs and shout, “Giddy-Up!”, but they’re not the kind we need to keep for very long.

5) He takes care of you.  Gives you his jacket. Brings breakfast in bed. Pours your cocktail for happy hour when you arrive home from work. Does the driving.  Covers you up when you fall asleep reading… get the picture.

6) He makes you laugh. Belly laugh. Until you snort and pee your pants.

7) He is baggage free. No partial fresh separations, no incomplete divorces. In other words, no whiny immature excuses about his inability to have adult relationships with healthy boundaries. Trust me, B.O.B is better.

8) He thinks your quirks are cute. I once had a beau, a best friend and lover who thought my Irish temper was adorable. God rest his soul my sweet little plums.

9) No matter what, he’s there for you, and no matter what he wants you there for him.

10) Way deep down in your soul, you know, you just know, that if you could be anywhere in the world, it would be wrapped up in his arms.

Wishing you all the best in love and luck as summer wraps up her rodeo and leaves town. Stay fabulous my darlings, and don’t settle for a man who makes you feel anything less.

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The Tall, Dark & Handsome Conundrum

John Quinlan
John Quinlan (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Bless me readers, for I have committed a grave, grave, single-gal sin.

I think I’ve allowed myself to fall head over three-inch-heels in-like with a fella. Not just any fella, a good one. A keeper. The kind you bring home to mama and let kiss you in the rain.

Please, please, yes. Bring that tall pitcher of juleps over here darling and pour me another.

Best get settled in my sweet little peach. Best get yourself snugged into that chair nice and comfy with your very own cold glass of refreshing bourbon and mint. That’s right darling, this is going to make everything perky stand straight at attention.

I need your advice.

No, I’m not pulling your leg. Quit looking at me like that.  I really need your advice.

As a strong, independent lady, I don’t generally have any trouble wrangling the more macho and deliciously-man-lovely sex into some sort of sweaty submission. Unless….

Unless they truly make my wee little heart go pitter-patter.

That’s right my juicy  little plum, I think I’ve met one of those rare gentlemen that deserve to be called, “gentleman”.  Instead of flirting and teasing and making my way to the boudoir with this fellow, I’ve become tongue-tied.

Perhaps that’s for the best, no? It would be downright shameful to slip up with what my thoroughbred of an imagination comes up with every time I see him.  It’s like I get caught in time, picturing his body under his white linen shirt,  imagining his fingertips at my back, and his soft, thick lips on my neck…oh my! It’s makes me shiver with delight, and I haven’t even touched him (yet).

Well, it’s enough to make a girl blush!

Yes, top me up darling.  It’s getting awfully hot out here, and I’m nearly faint from the heat. I’m dripping wet from all of this here humidity and girl talk.

No one can ever be sure of what a man is thinking my lovely. That is, if they ever do think at all.  Some older, wiser, gentlemen friends have advised that I make my interest known, but I don’t know how to do that. Not with a gentleman, at least.

Something tells me that standing on my tippy-toes and pressing my bosom against him while I check his adam’s apple delicately with my tongue isn’t the right approach.

Well, don’t just sit there looking like the cat got your tongue honey! I’m asking for your help here!!!


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Tonight’s Your Lucky Night

English: Fireworks on the Fourth of July
English: Fireworks on the Fourth of July (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

You just don’t know it yet.

You see darling, it’s the classic duel in the battle of the sexes. The man hunts, and the woman plays the coquette, finally succumbing to the pleasures of the flesh.

Or not. Perhaps we know darlings, exactly how the evening will end long before you even start allowing yourself the hope of seeing our delicate, porcelain white flesh stripped bare within reach of your pulsating fingertips. Perhaps our appetites are whetted much longer than your own constant ache?

Perhaps, we’ve been daydreaming about it since our last text, telephone call, or first date. Maybe we’re even preparing for it as you get ready for your Sunday bedtime routine, none the wiser about our careful preparation. After all, it does take time for a woman to prepare for the decadent feast that is the carnal pleasure of a manly man like yourself.

We have to change the sheets, tidy, prepare some succulent aphrodisiac appetizers and chill the bubbly darling. We’ve had to make appointments to be waxed and polished in all of the secret places we hope you find with the tender caresses of your lips.

This takes militant, precision planning, and immaculate timing.

Even though you don’t think we know that you prime yourself to be less anxious for your evening performance, we know, because we do the very same thing.

So, while you’re tucking yourself in tonight, looking forward to your next rendezvous with a fabulously voluptuous lady-love, we’re preparing our little love trap so you will think that it was your idea all along.

When you wake up tomorrow, just think, tonight could be your lucky night. You just don’t know it yet.

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International Women’s Day

" I would like to be known as an intelligent women, a courageous woman, a loving woman, and a woman who teaches by being."~Unkown~
” I would like to be known as an intelligent women, a courageous woman, a loving woman, and a woman who teaches by being.”

Women’s Day. Hmm?

I can hear all of the skeptics out there cynically muttering, “What about Men’s day?”

I’m sorry gentlemen, but my tissues are for the next generation of men who have to reconsider gender roles as women surpass them in education, professional accomplishment and financial independence.

Men’s day, at least from my North American, First world perspective, has been happening every day since the colonies were established. Alas, the pendulum is indeed swinging my darlings, in ways as interesting and multi-faceted as Cole Porter lyrics.

I could site facts and numbers about women still being under-paid, under-hired, and over worked. But I’m not going to do that. I don’t need to prove anything to anyone who still needs convincing.

Today I want to talk about the women in my life, of my generation who blossomed into full-blown ‘womanhood’ during a time when having it all was the ideal.

Not only were we pressured to pursue professional careers, we are still expected to maintain beautiful homes, cook nutritious meals, and mother in an overbearing and perfect way.

Oh, not to mention, in certain circles, we’re still expected to hunt down and trap that elusive breed of male who have educations and incomes better than our own. Are you serious???

My own neurosis of not being a stay at home mother and creating the illusion of the perfect Martha Stewart home versus my guilt over not contributing significantly in a financial way to the family, ruined my marriage. Well, that and a few other things.

I am one of very few women whom I know who are happily single and don’t feel pressure to bake cupcakes for the school/sports/band bake sale that look like something Marie Antoinette ordered.

My independence and devil-may-care attitude came at a high psychological price. For years I battled with guilt, and the seemingly two diabolically opposed personas fighting for air time.

Women often compare themselves to one another; their men, their children, their waistlines, and their mortgages. For many years in my twenties and very early thirties I felt like a failure.

Not only did I not have a husband, but I was divorced. Imagine that horror my little sweets! I rented instead of being mortgaged to the neck, and I barely made enough money to cover my bills.

Some time between then and now, I had a wonderful epiphany in my sweet-pink-girlie-soul. It may have been brought on by champagne bliss and the detailed attention of skilled lovers, but it was an epiphany nonetheless; I am educated. Well educated, with a professional designation, and I don’t have to check in with anyone before I travel, spend or save money. I’m not tied to a house with windows that need changing, a roof that’s leaking, or worse yet, a pot-bellied man sitting on my couch every night wearing sweatsocks ( I have a particular aversion to men who wear anything white below the belt) .

When I look at the women who are my contemporaries, for the most part, they are all juggling the ‘You Can Have It All and SHOULD Have It All” culture that our bra burning aunties worked so damned hard for.

The notion that, ” I must be married have a family, run a perfect household, be mortgaged to the hilt, and pay half the bills” really isn’t all it’s cracked up to be now that we’re pushing 40. Buh-arf.

So, this women’s day, I send out love and blessings to the women of my generation who are just now second guessing the insidious pressure our society has placed on us to ‘have it all’.

My best friends are women. If any of them came to me and said, “Duchess ( I like to be called that sometimes, especially when I’ve had a few drinky-poos), I need your help.” I would help.

Not only would I help, I’d recruit my bevy of strong, independent, beautiful friends, and they would help too.

We are lucky to be ‘First World Women’, and should never take for granted the basic human rights so many women around the world die for every day. We ought also to rejoice in our freedom and the opportunities we have.

So, on this International Womens’ Day, women of my generation, don’t forget you are loved, and we totally ‘get‘ you.

i choose