Looking a little groggy at the for-him early hour (8 a.m.), my older son headed out the front door this morning to fulfill his responsibilities as a dog-tender. His job was to walk and feed and perhaps gambol a bit with the dog whose owners were away for the weekend. I was happy to see him take his responsibilities seriously.
And it also called to mind the one prayer I think cannot -- in any religion or philosophy or thousand-year-old text -- be improved upon:
"May I become the person my dog thinks I am."
Forty years of Zen practice and I honestly cannot think of a better resolve.