Rugged Interdependency - Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

Golden Highways Revisited: 1998impressed by the welcome they got as companions of the ajahn, even though Suwithad been a regular member of Gina’s meditation group.They were seated at a separate table and thoroughly feasted by Wan, Daengand the others. Suwit came and sat with me as soon as the eating was done andchatted at great length about his own progress in the Dhamma since meetingAjahn Toon over here; also expounding his reflections, as a hairdresser, on kesa(hair of the head) as an object of meditation. He said that nowadays he takes theopportunity to have Dhamma conversations with his customers and that manyseem to come more for the chat than for the haircut. He also noticed that his tipswere getting bigger accordingly, sometimes a $20 tip for an $18 haircut – must begood Dhamma. He is happily single and neither homesick for Khon Kaen nor stuckon New York – “Wherever I am is my home” – a wise man in a wild town.We meet up with Nick and another friend at the Met, and are whisked awayon a whirlwind tour of India, South-east Asia and China by Brigitta, a Germanbornbut genetically reprogrammed New Yorker – not a docile docent. We smiledappreciatively by were all left somewhat dazed by the unrelenting current of herdelivery. She left us at the Japanese exhibit and I found myself placidly staring forlong minutes at a huge folding screen depicting gibbons in a forest – the space andsilence reverberating in my ears, the only thought capable of being formed was“gibbons…”Emerging eventually onto the broad cascade of steps that forms the Museum’sconnection with the street, we were greeted with a sight of the epitome of multitaskingurban living: a young man on roller-blades, dog charging along on extendedleash, cell-phone clamped to the ear whilst weaving through crowds of pedestriansand puddles from the recent cloudburst, utterly at ease and chattering avidlyinto his mouthpiece. And the remarkable thing was that it was utterly unremarkable– no one turned a hair.After taking a rest at Sandra Weinberg’s apartment, we made our way toShambhala, down on 31 st and 7 th somewhere around the florists area and thebeginnings of theater-land. We had a fine taste of New York cab drivers and theirways (including a pincer movement that brought four cars abreast in three lanes –very impressive) and the sweet and sour juxtapositions of have and have-not thatNew York City has raised to an art form.Mike of the Shambhala Center was very welcoming and, although things werea little late in starting, (another stalwart feature of NYC) there was a turnout wellbeyond people’s expectations – more than 100 showed up and folks were spillingout of the doorway, standing in the hall outside to hear. The title for the talk hadbeen billed as Inner Silence – the Precious Jewel, and, as if to order, a full repertoireof car alarms, shouts, sirens and automotive noise, wafted up from the street eightfloors below.There was great energy to the evening and good questions following the talk.The most obvious of which being, “How do you practice effectively in New York?”Jack Kornfield had (apparently) once said that he couldn’t imagine why anyoneinterested in Dharma would live in New York in the first place; this (if he actually50