Howdy friends!

Whilst in my repeated contemplations of the Gita, I wonder how else I may meld its teachings into my soul.

On Monday, I was bent out of shape and trying to figure out why. In the afternoon, I turned back on the recording of this sacred text and was reminded by Lord Krishna, “You have a right to your actions, but never to your actions fruits.” Once again I had caused my own suffering through a desire and expectation!

If I lie in bed and, in that liminal state of potent manifestation, wonder who it is I desire to become, I imagine myself as one indifferent to results. Can you imagine?

While going through my old notebooks, I came across a quote, the source of which I am unsure. It was bundled with a quote from the Talmud and was noted during my studies of Aryeh Kaplan. The quote is this:

”He shall be judged today only in relation to his actions of today.”

Therefore, when I imagine myself as one indifferent to results, it need not be some future self whom I am striving to become. Rather, so long as I am, at this moment, indifferent to results, then I am one indifferent to results. If I continue to string along these supposed present moments, time falls away and I just am. There’s no need for striving to become. I already am. And if I somehow forget to be indifferent to results, then I can remember and return. Perhaps this remembering is what a Christian might call God’s Mercy. Perhaps enlightenment is simply remembering.

Below is a poem that, for some reason didn’t make it into the book.

I also finished updating the website with new products, including t-shirts and fanny packs.

Have an awesome weekend.

xoxo,
Amanda

“Contraction”

Who is I?
Yes, I.
There’s that question again,
alright, right off the bat
like that.

Like, look in the mirror, bro.
You’re telling me you don’t know that guy?
Well, what the fuck then -
fraction,
not okay
distraction,
a screenshot of a selfie
taken in the reflection of my rear view mirror.
Snapchat, ya bish!

Do people still do duck face? People are still making references to 2 Girls, 1 Cup.
Don’t ask.
Don’t tell.
It’ll show your age,
which they say
is just a number,
but aren’t numbers the Only Real Thing?

This poem?
Is this a poem?
It must be,
for I am a poet.
So strange to make
a self-declaration,
but hey motherfucker: Me too!
Me fucking Too.

Humility.

It is not “I,”
or am I?
There you go again,
no, wait: I.
Me, me, me.

My phone.
My life!
Follow me towards enlightenment:
Tears on tears on tears.
Follow the Trail of Tears; they lead to Knowledge,
and isn’t that a Good goddamn thing? 
I mean, facile for me to say though:
me, me me,
a self-declared rhymer lol.