Posted by: Michael Rickicki | 06/30/2019

Poisoned Cakes

Yesterday I decided that what I really needed was to treat myself: I turned on the AC. I got a massage. I spent most of the day in bed reading. And, unsurprisingly, I ended up feeling the worse for it. How many times will I need to repeat these mistakes to see that this is not what I need? How often will I retreat into the illusion of comfort before I see it as just that: an illusion? All of the mind’s delights are but like poisoned cakes. Sweet, yes, but offering no sustenance and deadly pain to follow.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.


Shillelagh Studies

A hub for the music, culture, knowledge, and practice of Irish stick-fighting, past and present.