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Meetings

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Bit stuck for words. Lots of talking one way or another today. Just one of those days. A day to remember in many ways. Meeting a regular reader. Kept him talking far too long. I’m interested in the lives of people. Just as I offer a window into my life so others open a window onto theirs. Many stories to tell, dreams to share. Worlds of endeavour I have never encountered, contemporary art.

And within and around dreams and stories, and a Scots man scrubbing the kitchen floor this afternoon, there’s been the remembrance of my late Master. Today marks the 45 Anniversary of her Ordination.

There are very many talented individuals around, who visit here and practice in the Way. And I can see how Buddhism can be shown in the world through these talents.

All I can say is thank you and keep going on.

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Witness

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From yesterday in the kitchen. A guest is slicing rind off fresh, rock hard, Parmesan cheese.

‘Careful how you go there, don’t want you cutting yourself’.
Answer in thick Scotish accent: ‘Reverend Mugo! I’m a painter and decorator’!
‘Right…so you are’.
‘What’s that got to do with it though’?
‘You know, paint scrapers and knives…like that’?
‘Riiiight’!

Accidents do happen in the kitchen including some deep cuts needing trained medical attention. Being in the kitchen around sharp knives reminded me to draw attention to a posting, How to care for an amputated body part. Be warned there is a photograph of a dismembered forearm, not something one witnesses every day. Perhaps it is good to witness though.

In the article there’s practical information on what to do with a severed body part. Yes, it is written with humour and a light hand, the subject however is serious. No mistake about that.

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Festive Pie

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Courgette and Feta Filo Pie
At this time of year the Chief Cook of the monastery has a break and we all can volunteer to be ‘cook for a day’. To-day was my turn. I’d eaten this pie several times but not cooked it myself. So it was a bit of an adventure especially making it for around thirty people. Not a patch on the ones I’d had before in Cornwall however it is well worth trying again some time, when there is a festive occasion.

The recipe came from ‘Food From The Place Below‘ by Bill Sewell. This dish was the ‘dish of the day’ the day they opened back in 1989. Apparently the restaurant is located in one of the most beautiful spaces in London – the medieval crypt of Wren’s marvellous church, St. Mary-le-Bow. The church has a vibrant weekday community and among the most regular customers are the rector and members of the congregation. (text slightly adapted from the book.)

If you ever find yourself in Hereford Bill Sewell has a cafe there too. Not too distant is Hay-on-Wye renowned for its second-hand bookshops. So, double trouble in Herefordshire, if you are so inclined!

The Chief Cook came to work in the kitchen to-day, to share the joy as we sometimes say. It was a joy to cook with him again. Thanks.

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The Fly

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A few days ago I mentioned the solitary fly between the pages of Zen Mind, Beginner’s Mind. Here is a fable about a fly, which I rather like. And here can be found the possible explanation for Suzuki’s fly, it’s a quote from Meister Eckhart.
* * *
Keep a thought for us in Europe, hurricane force winds are blowing down trees and people are getting killed.

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Calling for Help

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It is late in the evening and too late to be writing a post. So I am really glad to have found a posting from Canada I can point you towards. It reminds me of a happy day out while I was in Edmonton last year, when I encountered real wild buffalo. Having already heard of the encounter described below I kept my distance and had no need to call on a ‘higher power’. Interesting how god comes into the picture when the chips are down and extinction is close. If we had been raised Buddhist from the start we would no doubt call on Kanzeon for help. Calling for help is the important thing. It’s an act of faith, the object is less important.

I dove into the bushes and hid behind a tree, suddenly finding religion and praying to God: “Let me get out of this and I swear I’ll never do anything this stupid again.” I couldn’t see the buffalo from where I was crouched, but I could hear her stamping the ground and snorting. After a while the sounds faded, but I was too chastised to dare the trail again, so I skulked back to my car the long way, through the scratchy, tangled bushes, vowing never to take wild animals for granted.

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Practice Within The Order of Buddhist Contemplatives