“I’m a practicing person.”
That’s what I said to a Buddhist man I met in August of 1999 as we stood in line to use the loo prior to going into Central Park to listen to the Dali Lama give a free lecture during his trip to New York City. The man offered up in polite conversation that he was a practicing Buddhist and had been for 19 years. Then, he asked, “what are you?”
Since I’ve never ascribed to any one dogma and instead saw value in aspects of so many religions and practices, I replied simply, “I’m a practicing person”.
I wonder how many more practicing persons there are out there…
I am a practicing person.
I will be 45 years old soon. In a birthday letter written to my niece, I told her of a time we shared and how I wanted the ending to be different. I wanted to end the memory with a hug and a mutual understanding. Rather than being the ever so smart adult painting her a pretty picture saying, “Everything will be all right.”
I am not perfect, nor will I ever be. I am a practicing person. This was the message to my niece: Today is done. Tomorrow is a do over. Love and Hugs. Be good to yourself and others.
Beautiful words, Allissa! You are a Practicing Person, indeed. Bravo for course correcting an experience by clarifying your said (and unsaid) words.
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