Ambulatory – Or Not?

Two images remain with me this evening. Images of two people on the bus that carried me from Hexham to Allendale this morning. One of an elderly man, the other of a young man – late teens early twenties perhaps. Do you want let off at road end, or the bus stop? The driver called to the old chap as he lurched up the bus, bent over with but a tenuous relationship with gravity. Nothing about him was inspiring ambulatory confidence. My confidence and probably not his either. Even with two crutches he waved perilously as he proceeded. Road end! cried the elderly gentleman. The bus stopped and he stepped out onto a snow bank! He just stood there waiting for the bus to move. I didn’t look back.

All the while, as we drove onwards, my eye kept on returning to a young man. I had a three quarters view of him as he texted – yes probably texting. He was curled over in a C shape. I could see him in the same shape at his computer. He was the same shape as the elderly gentleman.

It strikes me we are a bit like memory foam. We take a shape be it while sitting, standing, lying down, walking and while moving generally, out of habit. However, unlike memory foam, when we move we forget to change shape in response to the new, and ever changing, circumstances we find ourselves in. Too bad. Goodness knows the consequences that flow from ones mind adopting a shape and then not changing shape in response to ever changing circumstances. Food for thought.

Tomorrow Ayse (Dealings with Pain) will be in hospital having surgery and can use all the good thoughts and best wishes we can muster. So let us muster well! For obvious reasons of respecting privacy the details of her surgery are withheld.

If We Knew Then….

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They have a smell all of their own – and a feel and a certain character to them. Ancient dust, brittle paper, long loved volumes. The books, so very very many of them, are all now shelved. I think I qualify as a Bibliophile. Iain said this afternoon during a pause in the action. Oh! and here, grasping a desperately ancient volume, is the very first book I ever bought – I was nine. Canada (Romance of Empire) by Beckles Wilson written around 1900. Here is a sampling from Chapter V: The Founding of Montreal.

Of all the great cities of the world you will not find one that has had so romantic a beginning as Montreal. The stories sent home by the Jesuits had stirred all France, and made the more pious and enterprising spirits more than ever resolved to teach the wicked redskins (ahem!) a lesson in Christianity and plant the fear of God in their hearts. The French said they did not believe in treating the savages (double ahem) of the New World in the cruel way the Spaniards had done in Peru and Mexico; They preferred to win them over to civilised ways by kindness and the force of good example.

There we have it. What can I say? Sorry Canada. If we knew then what we know now, things may well have turned out differently. Hopefully.

When Iain returns to his wife and home in Japan at the end of the month I will come back to the books, and house. If all goes to plan I will manage to carve out about six weeks of rest/renewal/retreat time before flying to…Canada! So my labours of the past week are of mutual benefit.

This post is for Tom in Canada who loves books.

Snow Slowly Going

icicles.jpg
While snow melts from the roofs….
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it still accumulates.
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And on the lawn in front of the Hall of Pure Offerings….
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the benches are full. (this photo by Maria, & published with pride).

These photographs were taken a few days ago and kindly sent to me via email. The task I am here for has almost been completed. All belongings and furniture have been moved, Iain is settling to his new house, and so it is time for me to climb over the Pennines to Northumberland.

Many thanks to all who have sent their well wishes. This has been an example of how people can pull together and help each other. Well wishers help (a lot) too.

Snow Slowly Going

icicles.jpg
While snow melts from the rooves….
MB_courtyard.jpg
it still accumulates.
HoPO__lawn_.jpg
And on the lawn infront of the Hall of Pure Offerings….
Benches.jpg
the benches are full. (this photo by Maria & published with pride).

These photographs were taken a few days ago and kindly sent to me via email. Here in Kirkby Stephen it has warmed up considerably, and thankfully. The task I am here for is almost completed. On Wednesday I’ll be able to see first hand how things are at the monastery. Apparently the gutters are suffering under the weight of the icicles.

Guest Post – Up Against It

This is what came out when I set to writing. It’s not what I expected but it’s what came…Karen.

I have an altar in my bedroom; an altar that one might politely say is more in the ‘Chinese style’ than the Japanese. It has a Buddha, once white, long since painted gold but with the original colour creeping out around the toes and edges of His flowing robes.

The Buddha stands on an old turquoise gift box, the type you buy to send shirts, or hats and scarves to fathers, sons, brothers, husbands…. It is turquoise because it is a favourite colour of mine, it is the colour of the lay minister’s small kesa and also because it matches the room. It has an incense burner that could use a little TLC in the cleaning department, a stylised lotus flower in a glass bowl, also turquoise, a large ceramic vase, once again turquoise that appeared after a friend had stayed in the room overnight and which, after due deliberation, I decided to leave there, a wedding invitation which, once received, I placed as an offering of future peace and happiness for the bride and groom, a remembrance day poppy, a text that I purchased from the Throssel Hole bookshop many years ago, which states Dogen’s teaching ‘When the opposites arise, the Buddha Mind is lost’ (the latter two items both fall into the category ‘lest I forget’), a copy of The Kyojukaimon (also ‘lest I forget’) and a photograph, in a pewter and turquoise frame, of my husband David and me.

There is no water offering on the altar, a fact that, as I write, I am slightly puzzled by, until I remember that there always used to be one before life became so spectacularly ‘interesting’! I recall the thought and the subsequent decision that willing as I was to accept this latest offering, from the Universe, into my ‘fathomless begging bowl’, I simply didn’t have the time to ‘deal with all that’ and be topping up water offerings and keeping them clean and free from limescale, so I replaced the goblet with a large gold and turquoise pendant, a colour co-ordinated jewel at the Buddha’s feet!

Now, whilst I could be commended for my pragmatism, I’m fairly certain that my thinking was a little ‘out’. For beautiful and awe inspiring though the Buddha jewel is, it cannot be fully seen, experienced and appreciated without the constant flow of the water of compassion. Deciding to ‘set it aside’ at any time has to be a mistake but to do this when we are ‘really up against it’ is surely a recipe for disaster and ‘up against it’ is how I would describe life for the past three years, since my husband David became seriously ill.

So, this is why I write, to turn the wheel of the Dharma, to let compassion flow by telling the story of life with David. It is a life both unique and very ordinary. It is our own but not unlike yours, I am sure. It has its highs and it has its lows, it pain, its joy and it is abundant in its daily opportunities to train with a bright mind and an open heart.

These are my first thoughts and there will be more but first I am off to get the goblet from the cupboard and make my offering.

Karen and her husband are long time congregation members and lay minister within our Order. I look forward to more articles, hope you do too.