It isn’t even my book; I’m just the putter-together and ironer-out of language. Yet it prays on my mind. But then, books are worrying beasts.
My old friend and mentor, Patrick Gaffney, who had a much harder time of it than me, once wrote, “Books are like giant leeches, fastened onto you, sweating, heaving and relentlessly sucking the life out of you. They only let go and slither off when they are fully sated, and you can never tell when that’s going to be.”
I begin to understand what he meant.
Oiling a Rusty Mind 
i made tea too and in that small moment of offering tea i knew what it was like to meet an enlightened being