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Another Place

Good Evening

The birds are singing into the fading evening. Overnight the trees are bursting into leaf. Could it be spring?

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Ducks in a Row?

I’ve been working through a bundle of routine health checks since returning to England. Turns out I am healthy! According to the numbers and scans and x rays anyway. But all the checks do not stave off the fact of mortality. Or the numbers prove anything perminently true either.

My heart goes out to those known and those I don’t known whose test results, scans and numbers point towards serious conditions. My heart sinks at the thought. And waiting for ‘results’, just waiting, can be nerve wracking. I can run with fear phantasies with the best and have done so. And recently.

People often worry about their meditation practice. Is it deep enough, long enough, frequent enough, peaceful enough? Thank goodness spiritual practice cannot be measured, counted, analaysed or otherwise checked up on. But most of us have given that a try anyway!

So. Pointing our noses in the direction of travel is about the best that can be done. No gold standards, ultimately no ducks in rows. Mortality is mortality. Meanwhile, I’m with the ducks!

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No Separate Suffering

Tracking a whole lot of suffering tonight. Remaining still in the midst of life/death dramas unfolding thousands of miles away. Not distant in a very real sense though.

Let’s pour spiritual merit into the bottomless bucket of suffering. Somehow there are not individuals involved. Not separate sufferings, while at the same time there are.

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Lasting Impressions

Hanging in the hedge a disgarded corn chip packet. With my consciousness recently raised on roadside littering I reached for the bag with the intention of transporting it to a bin. Along with other rubbish I’d picked up. It’s been raining, the bag had filled with water. Emptying the bag, a drowned rodent spilled out! I silently recited a short scripture for its benefit.

The figure kneeling before the Buddha caught my attention as I sat drinking tea yesterday in Yorkshire. (Jason the cat replaced me on the warmed flagstones.) In a certain way, figuratively speaking, life experiences can have us on our knees. Sometimes big events in one’s life are so huge, SO HUGE, the impression never goes away, yet fades in time. Thankfully. Sometimes seemingly small events have us on our knees.

A drowned rodent,
in a chip packet,
hanging in a hedge,
in the English countryside.

So sorry,
So very sorry.

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