Letting Go, Pre or Post Meditation, Creativity and Meryl Streep

These are just a few of the subjects I thought of writing about in today's post. While I was meditating.

I was enjoying my meditation in my "office" under the trees today, except that those tornado of ideas kept whizzing by and I had to keep reminding myself to breathe - that is to go back to the breath.

Letting Go: My daughter is over twenty now and she is back in our loft in Brooklyn. Our dogs have returned home and they are all safe and sound, so why do I still feel the need to text message and call Zoe. Frequently. I even spoke to Lucy, one of our beagles, on the phone this morning.

I should give L&L my Blackberry for the next few days, but that will never happen. I keep wishing (secretly) that Zoe would go back to college this fall like just about every other kid we know, but she is not like every other kid we know and she probably never will be. And are they all alike anyway?

Honestly, I just want her to graduate so much that I would pay for a few tatoos if she would agree to go anywhere and buckle down and do the work. I AM KIDDING. NO TATOOS. Maybe just one tiny one on the back of her neck.

Pre- or Post- meditation: Would it be better for me to write before I meditate so I can just relax and forget about it, or post, so I can see what comes up in the mediation? And write about that?

Creativity: I have an idea for a possible TV pilot script that I would like to write and I am dying to talk to two friends of mine and of course I can't seem to reach either of them. I tried talking to my friend C yesterday and the cell phone noise was unbelievable, the kind that makes you want to smash your cell phone. Our service here is actually better than it is in Brooklyn, but he was in the city and there was too much noise in the background. The other friend is on a writing retreat and so I have to wait till that's over.

Patience: probably what I should have titled this post.

Crazy: is what I probably am.

Two more thoughts I remembered from the meditation.

Blueberry pie: it was delicious. After three nights of rather large slices of pie, I can't eat another bite. My pie craving should be satisfied for the next year. At least blueberry pie. I can't speak for peach.

Did you ever notice that your arms look much fatter in photographs than you think they are in real life? Steve just took a picture of me recently that shocked me. I used to have really good arms. I always lifted weights or did yoga, but recently, I've slacked off and have given up the gym. I'm going to pretend that I'm Meryl Streep and after this week I'm going to give up all the junk and get ready for my next starring role which will require me to be very svelte. Except I just remembered that I was invited to two barbecues in the next three weeks and the one in September will have everything that can possibly be barbecued. Ribs, steak, burgers, franks, shrimp, short ribs, lamb chops, and anything else that can go on a grill.

Fuck show business.