600 Words Away from Nirvana

This evening I stood in the backyard, watching the crows on their evening commute. They flew over the house in waves, groups of yelling, soaring, swooping black feathered figures. They were heading northwest to their night time roost, but getting as much out of the trip home as they could.

I was watching them with as empty a mond as anyone could ever have. The more information I try to cram into my little brain, the emptier it seems. While some popular gurus may think being able to empty the mind is a desirable goal, I can't agree. I want my mind to retain at least some of what I'm trying to learn.

For about four hours today, I was caught up on the reading for Ethics. I was almost dizzy with self-congratulation. Of course, during our writing exercise, it became clear that I had retained exactly none of the ideas. Nonetheless, for a little while my ego was soothed by the idea that I had finished the reading, and that I understood it while I was reading it.

After dinner, I need to finish writing a 600 word paper on Marlowe's Dr. Faustus. Then it needs to be edited, corrected and re-written. I've scheduled another 8 hours of gloating over my accomplishment for later this evening, unless I fall asleep instead.