(here is a poem from deep in zen retreat) by Billy Collins The way the dog trots out the front door every morning without hat or umbrella, without any money or the keys to her doghouse never fails to fill the saucer of my heart with milky admiration. Who provides a finer example of a life without encumbrance— Thoreau in his curtainless hut with a single plate, a single spoon? Gandhi with his staff and holy diapers? Off she goes into the material world with nothing but her brown coat and her modest blue collar, following her wet nose, the twin portals of her steady breathing, followed only by the plums of her tail. If only she did not shove the cat outside every morning and eat all his food what a model of self-containment she would be, what a paragon of earthly detachment. If only she were not so eager for a rub behind the ears, so acrobatic in her welcomes, if only I were not her god. from Sailing Alone Around