What a dear, beautiful sangha! I am so sorry I was not there in person although I thought of you often and appreciated the support you sent. I just walked back to my little room after a day of retreat here in the Lake District of England. It was quite cool and rained on and off all day as we sat in the silence of this old house called Ellers. On my walk back I looked out over rolling hills with old stone fences, new lambs in the pastures, rhododendrons and azaleas of every color, ferns, moss, and birds everywhere. On the afternoon break I walked just up the road to a tarn (we would call is a small lake or large pond) nestled in a verdant valley . Behind the tarn and the valley were some of the highest peaks in the Lakes. Through the layers of slow moving clouds covering the afternoon sun (actually after 7:00 PM), an opening appeared allowing light to shine through with a stunning display on the impossibly green cliffs. Shafts of sunlight illuminated craggy ridges through the mist. It was truly breathtaking, very crisp and cold, bursting forth with life. As I approached the rise in the lane over the tarn, two geese came in low, right over my head, announcing their arrival to the lambs crying for their mothers below. I would say it was magic, except it was ordinary. Ordinary magic of beautiful, impermanent, life.
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Flint Sparks said
at 2:06 pm on May 12, 2011
What a dear, beautiful sangha! I am so sorry I was not there in person although I thought of you often and appreciated the support you sent. I just walked back to my little room after a day of retreat here in the Lake District of England. It was quite cool and rained on and off all day as we sat in the silence of this old house called Ellers. On my walk back I looked out over rolling hills with old stone fences, new lambs in the pastures, rhododendrons and azaleas of every color, ferns, moss, and birds everywhere. On the afternoon break I walked just up the road to a tarn (we would call is a small lake or large pond) nestled in a verdant valley . Behind the tarn and the valley were some of the highest peaks in the Lakes. Through the layers of slow moving clouds covering the afternoon sun (actually after 7:00 PM), an opening appeared allowing light to shine through with a stunning display on the impossibly green cliffs. Shafts of sunlight illuminated craggy ridges through the mist. It was truly breathtaking, very crisp and cold, bursting forth with life. As I approached the rise in the lane over the tarn, two geese came in low, right over my head, announcing their arrival to the lambs crying for their mothers below. I would say it was magic, except it was ordinary. Ordinary magic of beautiful, impermanent, life.
You don't have permission to comment on this page.