He was standing in the lane at dusk. Standing as if waiting for a bus, or to cross the road. Not going anywhere it would seem. We pass him. Put our hands together in gassho. I wonder. Is he waiting to ask a question? Did I goof or something. He senses that we might wonder what’s he’s doing there. Just standing still.
I’m listening to the birds, he said. I think they are going to bed!
…and that’s just what I’m going to do. And tomorrow I’ll remember to stand still and listen to the birds. At least once.
Yes, I’ve done some gardening in the sidebar and removed several entries. It was getting a bit cluttered over there to the left and there are no insignificant weeds. Meaning, in this case, that it’s all too easy to grow links that take away from what’s being pointed to here. We call that the important thing.
Once up at the monastery I got an ear-wigging for my weeding. The monk has asked me to weed a short stretch of gravel path during the work period and knowing no better having pulled all the significant weeds out of that bit I continued on my way helpfully pulling out all the bigger weeds on the next stretch too. That wasn’t what I’d been asked to do of course. I should have taken the job more seriously, stuck to the bit I had been asked to weed and pulled up all the tiny weeds too. They were the insignificant problems that were going to become significant in another week or two if they didn’t get attention.
Too bad I’m not there to see you.
As they will have mentioned, ‘Mugo is away’.
Please leave a comment, send an email.
I’m sad we didn’t meet, another time perhaps.
And while I’m at it, all you readers from afar.
Your presence is ever present, as it were.
I’ll be back at Throssel late Sunday evening. Many thanks to all those who have housed, fed and transported me these past few days.
Last night Lancaster, tonight Preston and tomorrow Manchester. How I love to touch base there again, if but briefly.
Practice Within The Order of Buddhist Contemplatives