At night pilgrims wrap the altar in clothing and use it as a pillow, thus it is called a Pillow Altar.

This small shrine may well be a representation of a cave shrine in China.

***

I received a box of high class chocolates by Fed Ex this morning. They were a delayed-in-the-mail gift in celebration of my 25th Ordination Anniversary. The chocolates even had cooler bags packed with them to stop them melting on their way from Santa Cruz. On top of the ribboned box was a card. "Perishable - Don't Wait! Your box contains handmade, preservative-free fine chocolates. Please open and enjoy within one week".

There isn't going to be much peace upon my pillow tonight, that's for sure!

A line within one of our scriptures goes, "May we within the temple of our own hearts dwell, within the myriad mountains". I needed to be mindful of that interjection of faith and intent last Sunday afternoon. For sure.

I'd been invited to visit a family outside of Edmonton so the children could ask me questions about Buddhism. "To interrogate me", as I put it to the mother on the telephone! There they were five of them, two families worth, sprinkled across the living room carpet sitting crossed legged ready and eager.

Thankfully, just as I was leaving the priory, I'd plucked up a few bits and pieces as 'show and tell' items. A bell, some incense, lotus blossom stickers, a rosary and a triptych traditionally carried by people in the east when on pilgrimage to a holy site. (no time left to photograph that, perhaps tomorrow.)

Our conversation, come Dharma talk, come meditation period, come 'entertainment' ranged and rolled along in a way I rarely encounter with adults. With the children's attentiveness, which was not 100% of course, and their bright willingness to both listen and ask questions inspired words and insights to flow in a most satisfying way. This is the best of teaching when what needs to be said, and can be heard, arises without filtering through the brain so much. Wonderful.

What a gift these children were. There were the myriad mountains shifting and wriggling, twisting and turning, and in the midst of all that to be able to talk about Buddhism in a serious minded way. And for the flexible mountains, on some level, to absorb truths beyond words and religious traditions. Sitting still is not conditional on external appearances of 'stillness'.

I'm just so grateful for such opportunities, to visit outside of my usual circle. When 'the temple' can enter a living room, in a small homestead, beside a busy highway that ribbons East across the Alberta prairie. For me it is a rare opportunity to have a window on the lives of regular folks who in turn want to have a window on a different faith tradition, as seen through my eyes.

It is always good to hear from Tim, a Buddhist trainee, who I've know for quite a long time. He lives in Kosovo and has been rebuilding a house in the mountains. Hard work for both him and his wife.

Thought it would be good to take you off to explore life in the Balkans. A still beautiful, yet still war worn, part of the world attempting to get back on it's feet. In previous letters Tim talked about his work in a refuge camp making tough decisions about the water supply. Water to drink, water to wash in and ohmygosh, no water at all. That must have been perhaps two years ago now.

I'll keep checking on the house project and hope Tim branches out to include other aspects of his life on the blog.

To-day I went on a trip with a charming family to visit the Devonian Gardens south west of Edmonton. As we were leaving the parking lot (car park) afterwards a wedding party was arriving. My memory is that the bride always has four specific 'somethings' on her for luck. Here are my somethings from to-days adventure:

Something blue: Oilers 'uniforms', flags, hats etc. etc. etc. Edmonton is awash with Oiler stuff, which is blue...and bronze and white and red. And blue maple leaves seen on a Girl Guide scarf.
Something borrowed: 'if you find a folded-over chip in your bag of potato chips you can make a wish on it'.
Something new: The BIGGEST butterfly I've ever seen.
Something old: The awesome and ancient wisdom behind the eyes of the children.

Thanks guys it was fun, and the Oilers won too!
Thanks also for my four 'somethings', I'm one lucky monk.

Following a week of postings about death and dying here are some words from my Master on living. More specifically, where to live.

To sit still within the arising and vanishing, the appearance and disappearance, you and I, the constant coming and going: this is to be within the Great Ocean of Meditation within this human life. When we are dead (as we think of it), presumably we see It in a different way; I have no way of knowing. But I do know this: It is no different in life and in death. What matters is to be within the Great Ocean of Meditation.
Rev. Master Jiyu-Kennett, Roar of the Tigress Vol. II, p 116

Hope you find this as uplifting as I do.

My monastic companion is back in the monastery. She wrote in an e-mail: " We have a 'quiet night' so I have just finished a little stroll through your blog. Very nice to know what you are up to now, and to review our trip".

It is pretty quiet here in Edmonton too! Non of that hootin' and hollerin' up on Whyte Avenue. Why? Because Edmonton's hockey team, The Oilers, lost their game tonight. People said they wouldn't win and some said if they lost it would be a good thing. "Keep them humble". By the way, a quiet night in the monastery is when there is no formal meditation or community tea. We just have a quiet night, which is a much appreciated change of pace in an otherwise full schedule. It is kind of nice to have a quiet night here too!

The Reverend goes on to say, "The five dollar bill is blue, with snowflakes, and sketches of children tobogganing, skating and playing ice hockey".

"(the poem on the $5.00 bill) poses an interesting question, does it not? Of all the places that we live, where do we live our real life"? Thanks for your thoughts dear sister in the Dharma.

When somebody dies others are invariably left behind. They often want to follow along into Eternal Meditation with the one they love. Perhaps this comes out of spiritual longing or simply because of the unbearable thought of being left alone. And so people close around a death are, for one reason or another, drawn into the dying process. Indeed, I've sat beside a person and felt drawn along with them as they fade away. And when, as a priest, I am involved with funerals or memorials the sense of being drawn in very evident.

My father, who seemed to know about such things, kindly warned me in advance that he might follow my mother quite quickly when she died. I said 'That was fine by me'! I also said I thought there was enough going on in his life that would hold him here; me perhaps! Not that I think people make a conscious choice concerning the timing of death. I could be wrong though....

Here's another thought. When close to death people often sleep, the deep breathing and sleeping noises seeming to confirm this. There is often a sense however that there is a profound turning within, and tranquility envelopes everything and everybody around them. Perhaps they are asleep perhaps they are meditating very deeply, who knows for sure. A person can 'sleep' through half a day a night and another half-day then open their eyes, looked out at those sitting close by and then up and leave. Just like that.

And sometimes people are paid a 'visit' just before they die. This is not uncommon either.

Finally I have a moment to work with photos I took while away. Here is one taken just outside of Jasper. In my ignorance I crossed the road and stood about half a bus length away from this grand creature. Latter I learnt there should have been, at least, three bus lengths between us. We live and learn.

Bull Elk on the side of the road near Jasper.

Scroll down to 'Rocky Mountain Elk' if you follow that link.

Last Wednesday a complete stranger turned up for the ceremony of giving and receiving the Precepts. He'd just happened to bump into a congregation member as he was walking to the ceremony. They had fallen into conversation, one thing led to another and both of them ended up walking in the door just as the ceremony was starting. Jim (not his actual name) appeared mentally disoriented during the ceremony yet participated wholeheartedly, saying "I will" to keeping the Precepts, and left happy. Jim's presence was a gift we all were able to accept and benefit from, the gift of innocence. (Incidentally, I'd normally not have a person come to such a ceremony with out being orientated to what they would be agreeing to before hand.)

Across town a family dog attacked an 8 month old child. The father was on his way home from the priory at the time. Hard to think of that situation being a gift, yet seen through the eyes of practice it was. I'll not go into details here, just to say the child was not seriously hurt physically, and the dog has been returned to the animal rescue organization with the assurance it will be re adopted into a childless family, not killed.

I bow to the mother, "this is just the start of the twanging of the maternal heart strings, and you have accepted that", "Well done"! "There are no bad mothers, just ones trying to do the best they can". I bow to the father, "The dog (Sue), came into your life briefly, she let you love and then let go". "Your heart strings have been stretched, not broken."

Life is constantly throwing up gifts of, what seems like, a door slamming. Received with compassion and they can be a door opening. That's opening to deeper acceptance and a more expansive understanding of ones place in the larger scheme of things. Such gifts are a challenge to faith. In the first case the challenge for me, as the guardian of spiritual safely, was to keep the door open when my instinct would have been to compassionately close it. In the second case the challenge to confidence in guardianship, for a child and for an animal.

And the challenge for all of us is to let go of self blame.