Sunday 10:14 p.m.
The best laid plans ... I must say this holiday has not turned out quite as I hoped. Rarely have I done nine hours meditating a day. I only slept in the hut one night. I have had a good rest though!
I'm still niggling myself sometimes with this prostrations and hundred syllable mantra business. It's difficult to see the point. Seems a touch formulaic, eh, Jack? Just get on with it, Hotboy. In Tibet people speak tibetan and it isn't gobbledegook to them. I say mantras to myself all the blinking time as it is. Such like aggravations occurred today.
Instead of prostrating myself, I did the five hills run tonight. The Mull half marathon was run today so the old, toothless one is probably in the undertakers as I write since he was supposed to be running in it today. Or jogging, or plodding, vomiting, passing out and rolling over unconscious, giving all that knew him a red neck. But would he listen? A person of his age and decrepitude should have stuck to playing darts in the old men's huts.
The meditations I have managed to do have been most gratifying, but I've been thinking of becoming more normal.