Rugged Interdependency - Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

Golden Highways Revisited: 1998convention, however there is still a sadness in the air – like a death in the family –when someone decides to go back to jeans and T-shirt. As with most things in life,people go into the training with an open mind and a good heart, but if after someyears the shoe no longer fits: vat to do? After careful consideration, to move on toa different set of footwear seems the only sensible option.There were good, inspired chats through the evening – on child murderers,racism, mingling of genes and the nuns’ progeniture – we range over the blue landscapesof mutual experience; trading views and histories, hearing each other’s littlegriefs and insights.A full day – and still with the summer heat by late night – it hit 88 ° at 1:30 thisafternoon – a little less than its maximum for midsummer – I should have held backon the long johns and brought more sunscreen.April 1 st & 2 ndGlad I brought the long johns. By the time we came through the villages south ofBarre, Massachusetts this afternoon, the signs were reading 4 ° C – icy rain and achill bite on the neck.The day leading up to this was spent in many words and movements: a longchatty breakfast and – after a photo at Muira Roshi’s grave – a morning withVonnegut and Dresden; Nabokov had been the night before.The cherry outside the house had just begun to bloom, and the star magnoliahad doubled its decking of creamy white flowers but, as we pulled out at midday,the glow had definitely gone: we meet endless highways of grey and rain – punctuatedby cuts through rock formations, swirled like Viennese chocolate mousses,and a pit stop at McDonald’s south of Hartford, Connecticut. Along the undulatingribbon of Highway 84 we flow like easy light – when we meet some traffic and arebrought to a halt we wonder what is up – soon enough the blue flashes and huddleof bodies on the bank, the cars facing the wrong direction and the mashed frontof a big grey sedan give us their message: “Joe’s plans for the day have changed.”So it goes. Hi ho.We finish the journey to the sounds of Ābhassarā’s Requiem; Georgette’s earfinds Gregorian, Indian and Celtic strains in there with the haunting Latin. By theend of Dawning of Union we are closing on Barre. A warm welcome from Christakes us into the Study Center and gets me settled.Georgette and Maxwell stop for tea and a breather, then head for a restaurantin town: it’s their 36 th wedding anniversary today. The two of them are a rare breed– been together so long and still full of love and respect for each other – it has beena delight to dwell in the warm aura of their company. At this time they are thinkingto bequeath us their property; if it ever falls out that way it will be an honor topreserve and use the haven they have created – to live beneath the trees they haveplanted and for their flowers to rise between our toes.30