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Quote by Debasish Mridha

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Debasish Mridha

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“My mother had been baking more often in general, but she took plates of desserts to the carpentry studio, where her boss, thank God, had a sweet tooth. He just loved the cheesecake, she'd tell me, shining. He ate all of my oatmeal cookies. Some charmed combination of the woodwork, and the studio people, and the splinter excising time with her son kept her going back to Silver Lake even when she hit her usual limits, and every night, tucked into bed, I would send out a thank-you prayer to the carpentry boss for taking in what I could not. But this morning I was the only one, and it was the weekend, and carpentry rested, and the whole kitchen smelled of hometown America, of Atlanta's orchards and Oregon's berry bushes, of England's pie legacy, packed with the Puritans over the Mayflower.”

“Once at a workshop, the instruction was to walk mindfully over to the lunchtime food across the room. In that short walk across the room, I noticed how automatically I get ahead of myself—how I lose track of these miraculous feet on the ground and miss the space in between. And I’m beginning to suspect that most of life is “in between.”

“Several years ago I was in Seoul, South Korea. The police had blocked traffic so that we could have a walking meditation in the city. When the time came to lead the walking meditation, I didn't know what to do. I couldn't walk, because hundreds of journalists and people with cameras were closing in. There was no path to walk. So I told the Buddha, "Dear Buddha, I give up, you walk for me." The Buddha came right away. He walked and people made a path for the Buddha to walk.”