It was the autumn of 1993. I was at Reading Priory preparing to leave on a trip to Shasta Abbey. My elderly neighbour, Mrs Butcher, had given me a box of Black Magic chocolates as a leaving present.

We, Rev. Mildred and I, were relaxing after evening meditation when the telephone rang. Without thinking I answered with a mouth full of chocolate. ‘Hello this is (gulp) Reading Buddhist (gulp) Priory’! Robust laughter met me from the other end of the line. It was a senior monk from the monastery in America. With a chuckle he asked,’Are you eating a chocolate Mugo’? He was calling about arrangements to pick up me and my traveling companion.

The same thing happened today during a long phone conversation with a fellow monk. ‘Are you eating something Mugo’? Unmoved and unashamed, I responded that indeed I was and what’s more it was chocolate. Particularly fine chocolate as it happened. What a wonderful surprise gift to find in my mail slot after lunch.

I have done a lot of leaving places since becoming a monk. One time, when moving back to the UK in 1989 due to immigration regulations, was a particularly hard leaving. ‘Home’, we would say, is where your Master lives and I had to go. Everybody seemed to be talking about my LEAVING. So sorry you have to leave Mugo. And then I struck on a different word that better described what was happening. Transition. I’m in transition, not leaving.

With very many more ‘transitions’ under my belt, many painful ones, I’ve learnt that ‘home is where ones heart is’. And also where ones original Master lives. That’s no matter where one happens to be, or transitioning to.

Bit stuck for words. Lots of talking one way or another today. Just one of those days. A day to remember in many ways. Meeting a regular reader. Kept him talking far too long. I’m interested in the lives of people. Just as I offer a window into my life so others open a window onto theirs. Many stories to tell, dreams to share. Worlds of endeavour I have never encountered, contemporary art.

And within and around dreams and stories, and a Scots man scrubbing the kitchen floor this afternoon, there’s been the remembrance of my late Master. Today marks the 45 Anniversary of her Ordination.

There are very many talented individuals around, who visit here and practice in the Way. And I can see how Buddhism can be shown in the world through these talents.

All I can say is thank you and keep going on.

From yesterday in the kitchen. A guest is slicing rind off fresh, rock hard, Parmesan cheese.

‘Careful how you go there, don’t want you cutting yourself’.
Answer in thick Scotish accent: ‘Reverend Mugo! I’m a painter and decorator’!
‘Right…so you are’.
‘What’s that got to do with it though’?
‘You know, paint scrapers and knives…like that’?
‘Riiiight’!

Accidents do happen in the kitchen including some deep cuts needing trained medical attention. Being in the kitchen around sharp knives reminded me to draw attention to a posting, How to care for an amputated body part. Be warned there is a photograph of a dismembered forearm, not something one witnesses every day. Perhaps it is good to witness though.

In the article there’s practical information on what to do with a severed body part. Yes, it is written with humour and a light hand, the subject however is serious. No mistake about that.