Every Marmot a Zazen Master
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He don't need no $40 zafu meditation cushion, he's got a rock.
He don't need no sitting lessons from a Master Dogen, he's been sitting underground for six months, waiting for the snow to melt so he could come outside.
Don't tell him about the circle of light he might see while meditating, he's too busy shielding his eyes from the bright sun reflecting off yonder snowfield.
He don't need to spend weekday evenings packing his Sierra Designs holofil sleeping bag and Therma-Rest self-inflating camping mattress into his Jansport internal frame mega-capacity alpine pack with hip-hugging Dyno-lift technology, he's got his burrow right there in the meadow.
He don't need to pack no freeze-dried jambalaya with Louisiana long grain rice and red beans in a spicy Cajun-style sauce; check it out: his hillside is thick with tasty forbs, grasses, sedges, clover, and alfalfa to fatten up on.
No need to send him travel brochures or tell him to visit the National Park Service Website for a description of Easy Pass, he knows that dip in the ridge like the back of his paw.
He don't need to read "Zen Mind, Beginner's Mind." He's already a zazen master.
Marmot Calls (turn your speakers up high to appreciate that high-country whistle........)