Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

3Leaving HomeA J A H N S U C I T T OThe first glowing afternoon on the road to Lumbini, moving across theflat farmland, was rich with the joy of leaving it all behind. The uniformityof the plain—paddy fields, a few trees, the repeated elements ofbullock carts sauntering along, the occasional cyclist meandering by—blended perfectly with the simple repetition of letting one step flowafter another. Nothing ahead any different from what was behind; noend and no beginning. Just the faring on and the rhythm of walking; outin the open at last.Above the landscape spread around us, tiny dwellings with their cookingsmells, pinpoints of light and family murmurings, the moon soared,lifting my heart with it. This was what I went forth for; I could havewalked all night.However, in the spirit of moderation, we stopped to rest in some drabpatch of dried mud with a stunted tree as compensation. It was harderthan walking: the body in its waterproof bag complained about the hardground—now the hips, now the shoulders, jogged me awake to lookenviously at the stars. I slept light and got up before dawn.Early morning is a time I like to ease into slowly; on the road, outin the open, one can sit wrapped in the last vestiges of night and get4 1