Rugged Interdependency - Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

Golden Highways Revisited: 1998hosted Luang Por and I at Daklee Air Force Base the last time we had been inThailand together. It was a crazy day.My mother, sister Jane and brother-in-law Tony arrived from the West Countryduring the meal so I took them through the Temple, and all the new jardinettes,and improvements around the place. A lot has changed since 1995 when I lefthere and, when you see it all in one chunk, it makes a very striking impression.Maman, being partially sighted, had brought her binoculars to get a full view ofthe new building and she, along with the others, was duly deeply impressed. Tonycommented on how the Temple was amazingly light and spacious, yet warm andhomey at the same time, because of the building materials. It was a delight to hearthis as it had been the intention of the architect, and all of us involved in the planningof the building, to engender exactly this effect.After a cuppa with them at the Bodhi House and their picnic lunch we headedout to Ivinghoe Beacon – a tall lone hill at the end of the Chilterns and the ancientroad of the Ridgeway. Our walk got rained out (no surprise) but we enjoyed theride through the lush greenery of the beech woods and lanes anyway.They headed off at 4:00 and I went for the train at 5:00, to make the journeythrough Hertfordshire, London and Kent, where I was due to visit my almamater (Sutton Valence School) – close to our original family home – and some oldfriends.The ride in the Tube was as interesting as ever. It was rush hour, and the linkbetween Euston and Charing Cross is a densely traveled one. A sweet young thingin a low-cut dress got on and reached high to clutch the overhead rail face-to-facewith me – very close. It was a blessing that her boyfriend was squeezed in behindher, as it made the task of avoiding the sight of her uncovered chest all the easier. Igot the feeling that many of the folks around us were watching to see if this monkwould feast his eyes on the acreage of exposed skin, so I pointedly and vacantlystared up at the adverts and across into the middle distance – hi ho – another day,another test, another chance to do our best.A beaming Brigitte Burnett – childhood friend and the only one of my formercompanions who has shown any interest in Dhamma and my life as a monk – waswaiting at the station in Headcorn and we walked the couple of hundred yardsthrough the village to her parents’ house. They were still conducting a meditationsession with their local group there, so we sat and had some tea until they finished.It was 11:00ish by the time we had said all our hello’s and exchanged our currentnews. We have known each other for nearly 30 years now and are all considerablygreyer and more wrinkled than in those days so long gone by.The last job I had had to earn money for my journey to the East, in 1977, hadbeen laboring for them on the renovation of this very house – it had taken ten moreyears, after I struck the first blow with the sledge hammer, and it had all been finishedand furnished now for 12. It is an old, oak-beamed, rambling treasure of ahouse but, with the sounds of the street (including a riotous fish and chip shop,and the George & Dragon pub) and the railway at the end of the garden, all is notparticularly quiet here.99