Things have moved on with vacuum cleaners. For one thing, in England we no longer refer to them as ‘Hoovers’. Now there are so many more manufacturers, sending them to our shores from all over the world. I’ve recently become intensely interested in all things to do with vacuum cleaners. That’s because I volunteered to take care of ours, an extensive fleet of them. However my feelings towards them, up to now, has been ‘distant’. First task then is to hunt them down. Then check their bags and filters and see how they are doing generally.

This morning I went on a tour of inspection. There they were lurking in cupboards, in stair wells and the final three were found nesting collectively in a down stairs bathroom. Replacement bags there are aplenty. Sooo many different sizes. What next? Well, already I see myself nudging towards anthropomorphizing them. They are all different to be sure. Each has unique characteristics, particular strengths and weaknesses and special features. They have a whole host of attachments too, some concealed neatly out of sight and others sprawling all over the cupboard. So like we human beings?

Although my tendency has been to remain distant from these busy machines (there I go again!) I’ve generally treated them with respect. And, while they may be ‘just’ machines they do have particular needs to take into consideration when dealing with them. So I approach my new responsibility with enthusiasm and a thought for their general well being. So like how I’d like to be treated.

The next task? Find and read the manuals! See also…

This hawk was particularly friendly and seemed to want to pose. He did a spectacular display of hovering in mid air after this photo was taken. Then he landed right next to the road, so we could say hello again. Sent to me by the same monk who took yesterdays photo at Tule Lake.

Today I went to Newcastle with one of the monks. Our mission was to fetch carpet samples and hunt down some fabric. Carpet was easy but no luck with the fabric although I saw the exact colour several times. That’s: made up as sheets, boys shirts, shop assistant uniforms, and a pile jacket worn by a chap walking out of the cafe where we sat waiting for lunch. An interesting conversation ensued.

Hi guys! (I’m used to being mistaken for a male person, it happens quite often.) I finger his jacket, talked about looking for fabric just THAT colour. There were some awkward moments as we banter back and forth. Which way is this conversation going to go? And then his story emerged. Of having been in our valley one day mending a bridge as a workman for the county council. Then driving the empty road with trees meeting above him. In the distant gloom two lone figures, dressed in religious garb. Not something you see every day of the week, it takes people aback. Later on he had seen the sign for the monastery. He’d made the connect between that startling event and seeing us and obviously wanted to connect and to talk. So we did, until lunch came.

It seems that beings naturally wish to connect with others. That’s when they land long enough, and find willing eyes and ears.

These are thought to be Tundra Swans however I have my doubts. By this time of year shouldn’t they be in Northern Canada, on the tundra? Photo taken recently at Tule Lake Northern California.

And if you, or I, are in any doubt about the size of planet Earth in relationship to other heavenly bodies, ideas will be shattered in one moment….

Sometimes ones personal world seems so huge and overwhelming, knowing how small Earth is, in the greater scheme of things, helps get a more realistic perspective on everything.

It was the autumn of 1993. I was at Reading Priory preparing to leave on a trip to Shasta Abbey. My elderly neighbour, Mrs Butcher, had given me a box of Black Magic chocolates as a leaving present.

We, Rev. Mildred and I, were relaxing after evening meditation when the telephone rang. Without thinking I answered with a mouth full of chocolate. ‘Hello this is (gulp) Reading Buddhist (gulp) Priory’! Robust laughter met me from the other end of the line. It was a senior monk from the monastery in America. With a chuckle he asked,’Are you eating a chocolate Mugo’? He was calling about arrangements to pick up me and my traveling companion.

The same thing happened today during a long phone conversation with a fellow monk. ‘Are you eating something Mugo’? Unmoved and unashamed, I responded that indeed I was and what’s more it was chocolate. Particularly fine chocolate as it happened. What a wonderful surprise gift to find in my mail slot after lunch.

I have done a lot of leaving places since becoming a monk. One time, when moving back to the UK in 1989 due to immigration regulations, was a particularly hard leaving. ‘Home’, we would say, is where your Master lives and I had to go. Everybody seemed to be talking about my LEAVING. So sorry you have to leave Mugo. And then I struck on a different word that better described what was happening. Transition. I’m in transition, not leaving.

With very many more ‘transitions’ under my belt, many painful ones, I’ve learnt that ‘home is where ones heart is’. And also where ones original Master lives. That’s no matter where one happens to be, or transitioning to.