said the Telus engineer as he stood on the threshold of the apartment where I am staying with members of the lay community here in Vancouver. There followed a rather interesting morning, which I do not have the time to talk about unfortunately.
Later, after the engineers had left, Michele sent me a link to a site with a rather interesting book on it titled Relating To a Spiritual Teacher. Here is a quote:.
Avoiding Over-dependence on Others for Spiritual Energy
Even after committing oneself to a spiritual path and establishing a disciple-mentor relationship, maintaining energy and motivation in one’s spiritual practice may often present a challenge. Thus, seekers need a variety of ways to help lift themselves from the inevitable moments of feeling uninspired and unmotivated. The classical texts recommend staying in close contact with other practitioners and with spiritual teachers when one finds oneself in need of support.
The book can be downloaded as a .pdf. I haven’t read it – yet.
Thanks to the Telus men. You were an inspiration to us, both of you. Peace is all around and so when it is pointed out…there is a confirmation of what is already, all around. It is good to speak up, from one’s heart – to hearts.
You know how it is? There you are in a drop-dead wonderful setting, fantastic views, stillness pervades. The question comes up, Could I live here? And I for one, in this instance, know that the answer is no! The temptation of wanting more of what is beautiful and inspiring extends to everything, including tops of mountains and remote island retreats such as Gabriola Island.
Once again I am reminded that circumstances do reveal the next step. And woe betides that this truth is overlooked in the rush and pull of life. My next step is to return to the UK. There to rest/renew/reflect and regroup.
First a seaplane ride from Victoria on the 27th, yes the kind that takes off and lands on the water…, and then the next day a long flight from Vancouver to Heathrow. Then the bus to Reading and the Priory there.
Sudden, violent death leaves no room for reflection. I don’t even remember the dog’s color. (The girl, however, was blonde. That I know.) I recall the sensations and sounds of that day, but I feel nothing for the dog other than a vague undercurrent of guilt and inevitability.
From a post Death Bound on The World as Best As I Remember It – blog.