No Bodhisattvas in Foxholes
Yesterday, I found an empty tent next to the one where I've been living.
I took a laundry bag for a prayer mat, and for an hour I sat, legs folded,
hands clasped in my lap, meditating in the Zen tradition.
I chanted from the Sutras and, kneeling, bowed three times with my weapon,
holding it ejection-port up as I prostrated myself toward that part of the
Universe we call "Buddha Nature."
I prayed for clarity and peace of mind.
By no means a proper zazen ceremony, but a warrior's prayer ceremony
I leave soon. I have a long few weeks ahead of me. I don't know when I'll
Get FREE company branded e-mail accounts and business Web site from
Microsoft Office Live