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.