Huston Smith

I wanted to see if I could meditate again as I once had.

So I sat right where I was without moving. Then I closed my eyes and put my hands together, without them quite touching, and started breathing.

My breathing was a little rusty, like a door that still opens and closes but needs a little oil.

Slowly, meditation came back to me but not before I remembered to begin at the end of it rather than from the beginning.

When my meditation reached its beginning, I opened my eyes and walked downstairs to read The New York Times.

Huston Smith was dead. It said so in The New York Times.

I read the story in The Times about Huston Smith from beginning to end, concluding that there are good people in the world and that I am one of them.

At the very end of the story The Times reported that Huston Smith's favorite prayer "was written by a 9-year old boy whose mother had found it scribbled on a piece of paper beside his bed."

"Dear God," it said, "I'm doing the best I can."