lawn, “They call that a tree.” Whereupon Khyentse
Rinpoche started to laugh too. Had we been there, I
think we might have had a little transmission of what
it means to be a child of illusion.
We can practice this way in our postmeditation
now and for the rest of our lives. Whatever we’re
doing, whether we’re having tea or working, we could
do that completely. We could be wherever we are
completely, 100 percent.
Take the whole teatime just to drink your tea. I
started doing this in airports. Instead of reading, I sit
there and look at everything, and appreciate it. Even
if you don’t feel appreciation, just look. Feel what you
feel; take an interest and be curious. Write less; don’t
try to capture it all on paper. Sometimes writing, in-
stead of being a fresh take, is like trying to catch
something and nail it down. This capturing blinds us
and there’s no fresh outlook, no wide-open eyes, no
curiosity. When we are not trying to capture anything
we become like a child of illusion.
In the morning you feel one way; in the afternoon,
it can seem as if years have passed. It’s just astound-
ing how it all just keeps moving on. When you write a
letter, you say, “I’m feeling crummy.” But by the time
the person gets the letter, it’s all changed. Have you
ever gotten back an answer to your letter and then
thought, “What are they talking about?” You don’t re-
member this long-forgotten identity you sent out in
the mail.
Let the World Speak for Itself 33