A zen priest in southern california whose online photo features his shaved head and black robes. Sifting through them, i envision us all bobbing around in the ocean after a great cultural shipwreck fifteen weeks of dharma. (perhaps this had something to do with the fact that i was still wearing nursing bras. It just goes to show: as human beings, weâ€™re hardwired for connection. â€ i decide to perform some geographical triage. Although photos are not required, theyâ€™re strongly encouraged, as the bait on the hook in the online sea. I picture him chanting in the zendo: desires are inexhaustible, i vow to end themâ€”right after i check dharmamatch for any new hotties. â€ as a writer, i already spend a good portion of my days staring at my computer screen; i quickly discover that i donâ€™t want to conduct my social life there. Across the aisle, a stocky, dark-haired man is doing the same thing. The dharma-dating emails drown in the flood of messages from my real-world life: article submissions, work appointments, family sagas, baby announcements, friends inviting me to potluck suppers fifteen weeks of dharma. En cliquant sur le site ou en le parcourant, vous nous autorisez Ã collecter des informations sur et en dehors de facebook via les cookies. Over thai food, we talk for three hours, although iâ€™d told the babysitter iâ€™d be home in two. And as a mating strategy, it probably beats cruising a vipassana retreat. So i meet my first date at a bookstore cafÃ© thatâ€™s bustling enough to feel anonymous. â€œthe great way is not difficult for those who have no preferences,â€ wrote seng tsan, the third zen patriarch.
Week 2-3 as the introductory smiles continue to arriveâ€” â€œ. Weâ€™ve been in and out of each otherâ€™s lives ever since. But lately, several of my friends have met partners online; several others have had fun just going out for dinners, movies, and hikes with people theyâ€™d never have met without the internet. I forget what iâ€™ve said to the zen priest and what to the jazz musician. Free of the counterbalancing weight of actual human contact, i eliminate suitors for random, insignificant reasons: too short. After a few intriguing email exchanges, i chat on the phone with a yoga practitioner who teaches world religions at a prep school near san josÃ©. Although i hadnâ€™t been aware of having any clear expectations, i feel slightly let down. â€ a resident of a tibetan retreat center in canada writes, â€œi smiled at you but i have no idea what a smile means. A yogi who invited me to a clothing-optional â€œlove and intimacyâ€ workshop at his santa cruz home that culminated in a talent show where a seventy-three-year-old woman belly-danced wearing nothing but a denim apron. Iâ€™m tempted to copy and paste from one of my answers into another, just to save timeâ€”but surely thatâ€™s tacky. He responds with a five-paragraph essay about a recent interview with terry gross on npr. I will politely decline correspondence with anyone who doesnâ€™t live within easy driving distance of me. When i inadvertently fail to return a smile, i receive my first flame: â€œis this the way enlightened people behave. A burly poet in ohio who shares custody of an eleven-year-old daughter. It takes a good ten minutes before we approach each other and discover that we are.
Iâ€™ve never been someone who spots love instantly. We exchange glances, then look awayâ€”clearly, we are not the people weâ€™re waiting for. I tell him that, as a writer, i donâ€™t enjoy socializing by email.dating florida interracial jacksonville.. â€ he gazes at me as if this is the weirdest question anyone has ever asked him and repeats, incredulously, â€œdo. In the process, i can notice the habits of contraction that keep me feeling separate from other people: judgments, expectations, fears, busyness, guilt, chronic feelings of insecurity or superiority. I have tea with a music producer and vipassana student from l. Untethered to the world of blood and bones, the candidates for my affection drift out of my mind like balloons on a windy day. Iâ€™m just not interested in â€œgetting to know someoneâ€ by typing words into a box on a screen. Driving home from my co-housing tour, i reflect that this whole experience can perhaps be viewed as a kind of meditation practice. â€ i decide to do more prescreening next time. My date, whose screen name refers to a legendary scottish warrior, is a small, serious man with a british accent and a longtime vipassana practice. Sign-up questionnaires ask me to evaluate every aspect of myself: physical appearance, lifestyle, personality, dietary preferences. But for the most part, the smiles are linked to intriguing profiles: an argentinean jazz musician in new york city who studies tibetan buddhism and hatha yoga and has a nine-year-old son. The getting-to-know-you questions pelt me through the ether: â€œwhatâ€™s the most fun thing youâ€™ve done this week. .
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