Here I am thinking of old friends, again. Remembering old friends in the sangha. This prompted by a long phone call yesterday. Through much thick, and some thin, the sangha endures. But what is it that endures? Conditions endure. The push/pull of cause/effect endure. Is it inertia or familiarity that keeps us coming back for more of others company. Well yes, all of that and something deeper. How I’d put it is thusly; What endures is that which is not bound by time or place and is not afraid of all that is contained in time and place.
Now it’s time for that song, that is so tender:

Old friends, old friends sat on their park bench like bookends
A newspaper blowin’ through the grass
Falls on the round toes of the high shoes of the old friends

Old friends, winter companions, the old men
Lost in their overcoats, waiting for the sun
The sounds of the city sifting through trees
Settles like dust on the shoulders of the old friends

Can you imagine us years from today, sharing a park bench quietly
How terribly strange to be seventy

Old friends, memory brushes the same years, silently sharing the same fears

Simon and Garfunkel

It is late. My ‘day job’ is taking up a whole lot of my time and energy. And still I love to write here, when I can. And to speak on the phone as I have this evening and yesterday and the day before that. To walk with my walking companion(s) here on the road below Throssel. And to launch myself off across the Atlantic to visit old friends. I’ll post my schedule when I know what it is. Berkeley Buddhist Priory first, then Shasta Abbey.

What endures is a love
which asks for nothing.

She had been there all day
Motionless.

As I came and went she
Didn’t move.

Now I’m done with writing
She’s gone.

Companion for the day
Down the plug hole!

Thanks hairy legged one
For being there.

It has been days, or even weeks, that I’ve been cooking something, sitting with a problem, allowing a dissonance to be there. Thus it is that I’ve been thoroughly uncomfortable while the inner process, sifting and sorting my teacher would say, works itself. Today I got thoughts on paper, trapped them, edited them, checked them, sent them off.

Writing helps resolution, clarification. And now? Liberation! What a relief! Now I can get down to the business writing.

Sometimes the merit of simply being there has incalculable benefits. Being witness. Allowing the sight to enter in. Just that. Just that, can bring benefits.

What is the difference between one who looks on, in the sense of idle curiosity, and one who witnesses? Well it has to be intention. I’m sure there has been much witnessing in Japan, however this image is most touching in it’s witnessing quality. Note the monks hand held up in a one-handed gesture of prayer (gassho).

So, what about watching the news. Watching all those images of the wave carrying everything before it. Watching as the power station exploded… Watching, watching, watching. Or simply bearing witness? Watching the news need not be mere entertainment – it can be an active offering. Of compassion.

Thank you to Michael in Canada for this link. And sorry to those whose comments I’ve not responded to, yet.