I’m a woke non-bald slightly anxious Zen Buddhist, a neophyte with zero formal training. I’m a student in everything and a master in absolutely nada.
Just wanted to level set expectations and keep it real.
I’m pretty self-sufficient and independent, if you overlook the fact that I never really left home. You can’t count college when I lived on campus because as soon as I graduated, I moved back home and stayed. Home is Pennsylvania.
I’m also a cynic. Inject into that a burning dose of ADHD (self-diagnosed).
My Zen Master happens to be my father. He’s a cantankerous old man who engages in snark-fests with me, his method of teaching me by example. And by the way, he adores fruit smoothies, apple tart cakes and cruises.
He’s absolutely everything that I’m striving to be. Minus the old man part.
Mom – aka Zen Mum – is actually Catholic but she can’t recall the last time she’s been to church. She’s usually the quiet one among the three of us, but you always have to watch out for the quiet ones.
Being a cynic is not the “way” – I figured that part out myself awhile ago. The end game for a true Zen Buddhist is to achieve “enlightenment” – that moment when you actually scream “ooohhh, so that’s the meaning of life!”
The AH-HA moment of truth when things finally make sense.
It’s quite safe to say that I’m nowhere close.
Zen Master reminds me of the quote from Ralph Waldo Emerson: “Life is a journey, not a destination.”
In June, 2016, Zen Master had a stroke. He recovered but everything changed for us.
Now, I’m a woke non-bald, slightly anxious Zen Buddhist caring for a curmudgeon Zen Master and an Asian foodie Zen Mum, bumping along the twisted road of life with them one footstep at a time.
This is my personal blog with my own thoughts and quirks as a Zen Buddhist caregiver, just trying to make sense of it all.
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