Autumn officially started on the 22nd September that date being the Autumn Equinox. The golden leaves are flying and quite soon the snow will be flying too!

View from my bedroom at the back of the priory.

View from the priory front window.

Recently while traveling I accumulated a number of small gifts, most of which I’ve passed on since returning to England. Each are a token of a happy meeting which, when passing them on again, are a token of a happy meeting and so it is that the merit of these gifts keep on circulating. Here are a few items that remained and came to Edmonton with me.



The metal object, a double dorge, was given me on leaving Vancouver in early April, so that has traveled almost full circle around the world. The name card is one of the few remaining from a stack of 100 given out in Japan. I learnt how to present and receive them in the correct and rather formal way. It was touching to see how people received and held them with great reverence and respect with both hands. They then read them slowly, the recipient lingering awhile to appreciate the kanji that pins down the exact meaning of ones name. The rosary made of pure crystal came from the Abbess of Cheng Hoon Teng, Malaysia and the small packet of green tea from a fellow pilgrim sitting on a wall waiting for a bus on Puto Island, China.  The item with the Scripture of Great Wisdom printed on it, given me in Taiwan, was passed along to an old Buddhist friend this afternoon.

The business of giving, receiving, keeping and passing on tokens of friendship came into sharp focus just before leaving England. I’ve been pondering on ‘objects of remembrance’ since then and you will see why from the following. On a visit to Throssel in the late 1980’s my father proudly gave me a pine tree in a pot. He was proud because he had remembered my Buddhist name, seen it on the plant label and bought the tree himself, with his own money. This tree was important for both of us, yes, a pinus mugo! It was subsequently planted and, over the years, I have watched it grow. Just before leaving for Canada I paid it a visit, thinking to take a photo for this blogger, and all I found was a stump! It had outgrown its space. Then, the other day, somebody sent me a photo of a statue, minus one arm, I’d given him fifteen years ago and earlier, in the monastery at Throssel, one of the monks pointed out a couple of item I’d given which he had kept, pride of place.  All objects of remembrance, remaining for many years, all pointing to the deep connections we have with one another. And when the token is broken, lost or cut down the connection is not broken, lost or dead they are after all just tokens. Friendship endures and writing this blogger has, in several cases, brought to light friendships from the past and new connections I didn’t even know about! I’m grateful and there is more bloggers to come on the subject of trees too!

The Buddha was asked if there was a place for friendship within the Dharma, he replied that ‘friendship is all of the Dharma’. If somebody, better than I at finding information, can find that reference I would be grateful. Oh, and the first thing my Master, Rev. Jiyu-Kennet, said to me was ‘Hello Friend’.

Today, while driving back from Newcastle in the late afternoon light I marveled silently at the moors of Northumberland unrolling into the far distance. Perhaps I’m appreciating them all the more knowing that I will be leaving England for Canada in just a few days and will not be back for a year or more. An email was awaiting me when I arrived at Throssel with a web page attached. In it was this poem. It fits the moment, its arrival is timely.

Pinus mugo, is frequently listed under the variant spellings P. mughus & P. mugho, & the species is synonymous with P. montanus. A common mispelling adds an extra letter to this pine’s name so that it becomes Mungo or Mungho, after Saint Mungo, Bishop of Strathclyde, Scotland, circa 540 C.E. Saint Mungo’s name means “Dear One.” One of his first reported miracles was restoring a serf’s pet robin to life after ruffians had killed it. The correct name Mugo, however, is of such old origin that the meaning is lost to time, but may be an old Italian dialect word for “mountain,” or possibly tracks back to a Nordic word meaning “misty” for growing in mists of high mountain plateaus & ledges. http://www.paghat.com/mugo.html

After thought: Is it not heartening to know that at one time serf’s keep pet robins!