I shot awake in the middle of the night with a fix, a fix for a whole in a troubled chapter of my book. There was no paper or pen next to the bed — of course there wasn’t — just a growing stack of Kay Scarpetta mysteries that I’m suddenly, inexplicably addicted to and a collection of half-empty glasses of water, so I had to get up and go to my desk and turn on the light and find the right notebook and write it all down.
By the time I went back to bed it was too late. Awake, with monkey mind, for the rest of the night.
Mind Monkey or Monkey Mind: from Chinese xinyuan and Sino-Japanese shin’en, is a Buddhist term meaning “unsettled; restless; capricious; whimsical; fanciful; inconstant; confused; indecisive; uncontrollable”.
Funny, that’s usually how I usually describe this group of wild, running, wrestling hooligans, but look at them this morning. Angels all. A circle of zen. Maybe they’ll stay like this all day while I work?