Peter Newton

Zebra Zen

I want to become more like a zebra. Under attack it kicks and brays. It does its best to survive. If, by chance, it lands a jaw-breaker, great. The herd remains intact another day. If it escapes, it’s back to grazing, unscathed. No remorse. No if-onlys. Just the alertness of being. Good ol’ zebra zen-ness. No why-mes? No desire to rehash old gripes with the lion. It’s business as usual. Back to the ease of life. In the flow of the open plain, at home in a river of wildebeest.

meditation aisle
I leave
empty-handed