From Chogyam Trunpa: Ocean of Dharma
For a dharmic person, good conduct is a sense of mindfulness and awareness: whatever you are doing, you should try to see it as an extension of your sitting practice, your general sense of awareness and refraining from too much, unnecessary activity….You could look at yourself and smile. You could be awake and aware and, at the same time, on the spot. Constant sunrise happens. You reflect that yourself, and you always look awake and aware of what you are doing. That is good conduct. You respect yourself and you respect the sacredness of your whole being, your whole existence. When you have that kind of self-respect, you don’t spill your tea or put your shoes on the wrong feet. You appreciate the weather, your coffee, your tea, your clothes, your shower. There is a tremendous sense that for the first time you have become a real human being and you can actually appreciate the world around you. That appreciation comes from being aware.
Posted under meditation help
This post was written by ed on February 13, 2009
We are all in the same position of a hopeful person waiting on a pier for his or her ship to come in. Whether it’s a relationship we long for, a creative job, a reunited family, or a healed world—some wait for small boats, some for ocean liners—but we are all waiting, and many, having waited for a long time, have given up hope that their ship will ever come in. 
What if you had a big dog that us not trained and he ran through your house like an animal, peeing on the furniture, eating the food off your table, biting your friends, and barking all the time so you couldn’t think or talk. Knowing that things were out of control and didn’t have to be this way, you would probably, after some time living like this and finally reaching the end of your rope, ask for advice. Giving up the dog for the purpose of this story is not an option. Your life is a disaster. “What can I do?” 
“Why can’t I-you be this and not that?” I suddenly realized that all human discontent comes from this simple question. We either ask it of ourselves or others or the situation or the world conditions or existence itself, or ultimately, of God. “Why can’t you be this kind of God instead of that?” This is the question that cuts the world in two. This is the first cut of the wedding cake in our marriage with existence. We say I DO, kiss and feel the bliss, and then we cut ourselves in half and start complaining. How odd. 