Rude Awakenings - Forest Sangha Publications

^0 F I R S T M O O N 06Whatever the truth of the matter, I’m sure that the locals still rememberto their shame that he left without breakfast. Mataji certainly wasn’tletting us get away so easily. I still remember the layers of freshly friedparotha that we packed inside us to her satisfaction before we caught abus back to Lumbini. Dear woman. After Nick had lined the family upand taken a photograph, I managed to give her a small Buddha imagebefore we left. A way of thanking my own mother. She looked neitherhappy nor sad, kneeling before me with hands in anjali.At Lumbini I spent more time picking up the litter around the templeand trying to talk to Bhante about Dhamma. I made some offeringsto the Buddha in the vihara’s main shrine; it seemed more alive in there.And finally, the night before we left Lumbini, I dropped Sister Rocana’sbones into Queen Maha Maya’s tank. Maya: “the illusory play of life.”The stars bobbed in recognition on the surface of the dark water for afew moments then returned to stillness.Under the tree again the thoughts drifted around this matter ofhuman relationships, now raw, now convivial, now aspiring, now irritatingor generous or mean. You can never figure it out. I asked mymother to understand and know that I loved her—why are people toobusy to say these things? Behind the thoughts a sad and questioningmood wafted up images of mothers and caring and loyalties, and sometimesbehind the play, a measureless watching. I turned to that for someanswer.But you should know this Ananda, the most marvellous quality ofTranscendent Ones is that mindfully they know a thought when itarises, mindfully they know it as it persists, and mindfully theyknow it as it passes away.Silently before dawn, before the human realm got going, we wentback on the long and open road.5 8