One month down

Full moon rising over the bay at Jenner, CA. From a kayak.

Today's full moon marks the end of the first month of Vassa, and I find myself among the skeptics who thought I'd never last the month with my minor efforts. But I did.

Surprisingly, it wasn't all that hard. I still get an occasional thought to play a computer game, but only when I'm passing time, waiting for some appointment or some reason when it's not reasonable to start something new.

I've only missed one meditation session, an evening a couple of days ago when fatigue from lack of sleep interfered. I knew I could not even sit on the cushion for those 20 minutes.

What is surprising is how much good the month has done me. Inside, where it counts, I can really feel the difference. Simple observances, but knowing I've made the Vassa pledge seems to give my mind much more reason to stick to all of it and even add a bit more.

With this success behind me, I'll avoid one more thing that's bad for me beginning with this full moon and which, like the computer games, is an obsession. Sugar! This one really needs to happen and will be harder than the games. But, I started a couple of days ago, casually, and today it stops. For the next two months. You can trust me when I say this is going to be tough. I can avoid it easily at home, but if I'm somewhere that it's put in front of me in the form of some delicious food --- that's when it'll be hard. But hard is good, and I'll do it.

Only two weeks in....

All of two weeks into this Vassa thing, and I'm already chafing at the restrictions I placed upon myself. I sometimes resist the need to meditate, and more and more feel the urge for 'just one computer game'. But -- for the time being, at least, I ignore both, sit on the cushion as scheduled, and don't click on the games icons.

I think for the first time this is actually giving me a small look inside the discipline every person, male or female, has to have when they ordain as a monastic, and at how much they have to give up. The men live by over 300 rules that affect every aspect of their lives, and the women (who are presumably temptations for the men and must avoid that) live by over 600, if I'm remembering my numbers correctly. They relinquish pretty much everything from their layperson lives, including money and possessions.

I've given up things when I've stayed at a monastery, whether for a week or several months, but most of it never bothered me because about all that really frustrated me was lack of entertainment (TV, radio) and lack of occasional wine or beer. I didn't eat dinner, but for some reason that's something that has never really been difficult for me. And I've mostly had my computer for the entertainment value that provides.

Observing all this within my mind is fascinating. I'm forced to make choices, reaffirm my intentions, on a daily basis, and this forces me to look deeper, think more about what I'm observing of my own mind. One thing most Buddhist meditators can agree upon is that the human mind is never boring, if you really watch how it works. It can be frustrating, but not boring. Training it is not easy, but the rewards are great and worth the effort, because the effort to not give in to either craving (playing computer games) or aversion (not wanting to meditate) does train the mind to let go of both those unwholesome actions. Craving and aversion are at the heart of what, in Buddhist philosophy, causes unhappiness in our lives, and the more we can let go of them, the happier we are. I can attest to that, certainly.

So, I continue, discovering in the smallest possible way just what my monastic friends experience every day of their lives, to a much higher degree. It's a worthy experiment.

Discipline

In case anybody wonders -- and I seriously doubt that anybody does -- I'm still keeping the vassa pledges I made a week or so ago. Wearing white is easy. Meditating twice a day has been easy too, surprisingly, and even not playing computer games is not overly difficult, though there are times when I long to reach for those icons, to pass the time.

The cat was confused about me sitting on 'her' meditation cushion for a few days, walking all around me, meowing, insisting upon climbing my body so I'd hold her, and generally being a sweet pest. But she eventually gave it up and got used to it. So I'm left in peace, from the feline at least.

I'm also a little surprised at how much good the meditation seems to be doing for me. Since it's only 20 minutes at a time, I expected little other than the discipline of doing it. Then I started up a healing meditation I learned a few years ago from my favorite teacher, even listening to her guided meditation one evening. She is Asian, of Chinese ancestry though Malaysian-born. This meditation leads the mind in sending loving thoughts to the body, superficially at first, then deeper to include the various organs -- brain, heart, lungs, liver, intestines, etc -- as well as every body part. She says that sending these loving thoughts sends the good 'chi', or energy, to that part and heals whatever needs healing. Something is working -- certainly in my neck/spine area where I had a bad whiplash back in 1993 leaving my spine looking something like a pretzel in that area. This had been inflamed lately, but since I've been doing this meditation daily, the inflammation seems to be gone. No more pain, at any rate. There was a second area that I cannot even remember at this moment, also gone. She also addresses the mind, as well as the body, and when I'm through with 20 or 30 minutes of this I'm kind of a happy, limp noodle.

I think what I like about these pledges most, however, is simply the successful discipline that comes with following them. They cause not one bit of difficulty or trouble in my life, other than offering a tad more discipline in a couple of areas.

I still don't know if I'll make it until the full moon in early October, but for now it's all good.

Vassa, and life

So -- today  is the first day of a season/tradition called Vassa, when Buddhist monastics, at least those of the Theravadan tradition, tend to stay in one place for three months, rather than going out into the world to teach. The tradition stems from the days of ancient India, when this was the rainy season and travel was difficult for the monks. Twenty-five hundred years later, the tradition is still observed, though rain or shine travel is much easier.

Teaching still happens, of course. But more 'in house' I guess you'd say, rather than roaming from place to place. Not all that many monastics actually roam these days. Most are connected to a monastery somewhere as a home base, even if they travel to teach. But, I know of one at least who has been traveling the world for years now, staying with friends or at monasteries. He always observes Vassa, wherever he is.

I've spent time in monasteries during Vassa, but never really noticed anything much different other than that often bikkhuni's from over the world might come and join the others for the three months. I never thought about observing it myself, on my own, in any way, until a week or so ago. There was a Google Groups message from an Indian man whose family is offering much financial support to Dhammadharini during this time. He suggested various ways lay people could participate: come to the monastery, wear white and serve the monastics, meditate, and such. I was invited to spend time with them this summer, and wanted to, but in the end gave in to the reality that I just didn't have the energy for the drive down there, among other things.

But then -- light bulb! -- he mentioned that Vassa was sometimes called the Buddhist Lent, which I'd never heard before, and that lay people could observe it in their own homes by doing something that was good for them, giving up something that was bad for them, and spending more time in meditation. This sounded like something I could and wanted to do, though I admit that I had some reservations over the last few days. But, here I am.

Wearing white every day, meditating twice a day as something 'good for me', and not playing computer games serves as giving up something 'bad for me'. Those games were and are a terrible habit, and are bad for my eyes as well as my right arm which has an annoyance something like carpal tunnel syndrome, though not in the wrist, and has had for years. Comes from the same idea -- repetitive motion.

Other than these easy things, life goes on as normal but since the mind is always aware of the need to avoid the games and to remember to meditate, it's also more aware than usual of the general Buddhist philosophies and the wish to live by them perhaps more strongly than normal. Now, I'm as skeptical about me actually doing this for 3 months as anybody else, so we'll see. But that's the goal.

Hard to catch the cat in the window long enough to take a picture, but I managed. She's grown -- not so much bigger, but sturdier and heavier. Not fat, just solid. She's a sweetie, tries so hard to be the perfect cat. A great companion that I'm glad to have with me.

This morning I awoke to some beautifully risen (over-risen, unfortunately) sourdough bread I'd started yesterday. I baked it anyway, and it rose but not as much as if I'd baked it sooner. I tried something different this time: added rosemary and greek olives and black pepper to the dough, guessing at quantities from a non-sourdough recipe I really like. Fortunately, the idea was a good one, but there is too much black pepper, certainly, and maybe too much rosemary. However, I made a half recipe and it's not inedible, so not much is lost.

The garden is doing well, though snails decapitated a couple of pickling cucumber seedlings, three bean seedlings, and some of the stem of an eggplant. I don't know if the eggplant will produce any fruit -- sure hasn't been growing, but looks healthy otherwise. One bean bush has maybe 3-4 beans on it, but the other seedlings are shot. Squash is doing great, Swiss chard and everything else are doing great.

Support Feminine Wisdom in Buddhism

As I may have written previously, my Bhikkhuni friends in California have been searching for a new in-town home for some time now. The current vihara is leased, and the owners have been quite generous in extending the lease to accommodate the search. But, the lease is pricey and both the monastics and their supporters feel that the money would be better spent being invested in a purchased property, rather than a lease. They have the hermitage in the redwoods, but that is remote and inconvenient for most of their Bay Area supporters, and unsuited for potential retreats and other large gatherings.

They recently found a place that would be perfect, but even with $400,000 in cash to use for down payment, they were unable to secure traditional financing without a guarantor. Property in Sonoma, CA is expensive! If this place is no longer on the market when funds are in place, they'll continue to search for something else.

Many people suggested a crowdfunding campaign, and today that campaign has been launched. They have two months in which to raise $500,000 in donated funds. They are a verified non-profit, thus any donation is tax deductible.  If this sounds like a pitch from me to you, that's exactly what it is.  Donate whatever you can afford  -- from $5 up. I can't give much, but I can handle a small amount. Every $5 or $10 helps, and if you can afford more, I promise you they will be most grateful.

Here's the link: Support Feminine Wisdom in Buddhism. Please forward it to everyone you know who might be interested or willing to chip in for this very worthwhile project.

Equanimity reboot

A few months ago I applied to attend another 10-day meditation retreat at Dhamma Kunja, the Goenka center in Onalaska, Washington, in October. It was either a moment of weakness, or a moment of strength. Maybe some of both. Weakness, meaning I momentarily lost my resistance to these retreats, and strength meaning I had the guts to take on another one. They are particularly difficult. I was approved for the retreat, but number 21 on the waiting list. It didn't seem possible that I'd work my way to a seat from that point, and I almost took my name off the list. Kind of lost all interest in going, truthfully. The moment of weakness was gone!

Then, a few days ago, a notice that I've moved to number 6 on the list, asking me to let them know if I'm no longer able to attend. Somehow -- another moment of weakness/strength -- I felt as if I might feel like going now, so I haven't taken my name off the list and am, in fact, beginning to look forward to going. I have a strong emotional attachment to Dhamma Kunja. It's my place. This is where I went for my first ever meditation retreat, back in February of  2005, and where I returned a couple of months later for 2 weeks of service in the kitchen. I love it -- have missed it, living back east. There's something magical there, for me. Maybe it's the cool view of Mt. Rainier in the distance, or just the vibes in the beautiful meditation hall. Whatever, it's something I'm drawn to experience again. And, in the years since my last visit, they've built a new dorm for the women that's apparently pretty cool. No more dorm rooms full of cots. These are double rooms with attached baths. Unheard of!

Part of what makes these retreats so tough is the pain associated with sitting for many hours every day. Remember awhile back when I went to a local, 1-day sitting? Whined and moaned about that, the back pain, the mental difficulties. My first retreat was dominated by extreme, excruciating back pain, something that's hard for a beginner, in particular, to cope with. In later years I've spent many hours in various retreats, built up good 'meditation muscles' that keep the back happy during long hours of sitting. But the 1-day proved to me that those muscles are now seriously weak from lack of use.

Time for training! I have time -- about 3 weeks before the retreat begins -- so I've begun the process of getting those 'meditation muscles' back into shape. Yesterday, a mere 30 minutes made the back start to scream. This morning, another 30 minutes, and only twinges toward the end. The plan is to gradually increase both the amount of time at each sitting, and the number of sittings daily, because the fear of all that misery is just too strong. The meditation cushion will be used as a chair, for TV watching, during this time. I may not make the retreat, but getting the muscles back into shape can't hurt anything, and at least I'll be ready.

Will I be emotionally ready? That's tougher. It took me something like 8 years after that first experience back in 2005 to get the guts to try another. I went to many retreats during those 8 years, many of them really tough ones, but these 10-day Goenka retreats are by far the hardest. Thankfully, for the second retreat my muscles were well-conditioned and all I had to deal with was the mental aspect. That's often as hard or harder to cope with than the physical pain, because the back pain is easily alleviated temporarily by getting up and walking for awhile. But nothing gets you away from your own head! Strictly silent, with even looking at another meditator being frowned upon, there is no escape from whatever is going on inside the mind-body organism as it copes with the silence, the lack of escape, and all the rest of it.

So why do I go? Because I always learn a lot, gain a lot from the experience. Last time, in south Georgia, I spent the entire time frustrated and bored. Spent a lot of time mentally designing a kind of meditation cushion that would be comfortable for those long hours. Because even if the muscles are in good shape, and even if you have the most comfortable cushion available (mine is an air cushion, and I wouldn't trade it for any other kind), sitting on it for 8-10 hours a day results in a really sore butt. I also managed to reach a stage of deep concentration a couple of times, when I'd manage to let go of all the external stuff and simply practice the technique that is taught, and that's always a good thing.

It's all mental -- including coping with the pain and boredom and frustration. Those are all mental states that you can choose to ignore, or choose to think about. They're best ignored. Training the mind to remain equanimous in all situations is what the practice is all about. No highs and lows, no anger or sorrow. Merely a lovely state of equanimity, which is pretty darned cool. I much prefer it to the old days when I'd react strongly to life's events with anger or tears. It's not that I don't have emotions or feelings about things that happen, it's that I'm able to look at the emotions differently and realize that true happiness and contentment with life lie with the middle ground of equanimity. This is the way of life taught with Buddhist training. It's what following this Buddhist path is all about. I need some reminding, some deep practice, to help cope with this low-level depression and the frustrations and boredom of my current life. I react equanimously -- am well-trained to do so -- but I'm less successful with keeping the frustrations and boredom from affecting my days. Time for a reboot!

I'll miss two football games, but when I chose this particular retreat I was looking at the retreat schedule alongside a Ducks schedule and felt that these were two games I wouldn't mind missing -- both against teams in Washington, coincidentally enough. Speaking of football, there's a game coming up this morning, but it's rather a snooze. I'll watch, of course, but it's likely to be a rout, the underdog coming into Autzen Stadium and being walloped. Even with (probably) our back-up quarterback playing.

More magic mountains

By the time I arrived at the kitchen yesterday morning around 5am, raindrops were starting to fall! It continued all day, sometimes good and strong, sometimes a drizzle, but fairly steady. The nice kind of rain that soaks in, doesn't run off. A very welcome event for an area so parched.

The prospect did not, however, deter the monastics from the planned pindapat rounds in Sebastopol. Pindapat is the Pali term for alms rounds, which is the way the monastics survived for centuries. All monastics from a monastery would walk through the nearby town every morning, where the townspeople would wait in front of their homes with food to place in each alms bowl. This was all the food they would eat for that day. It's a tradition sometimes practiced at monasteries in this country as well from time to time, and Ayya Sobhana has been instrumental and determined to establish the tradition here, as a way to bring the monastics into the community, and the community together with the monastics. They've been doing it twice a month in the summer hours for about a year now, but this is the first time I've had the privilege of going with them. The child was so entranced that he made his dad go and buy a container of juice so he could offer it.



This woman didn't have food to offer, but did offer a little money, which they normally don't accept. I spoke up too quickly, offered to accept it for them. But, no harm done. She felt better about offering something, and for the blessing she received in return. They schedule this for every two weeks, and each time they meet both old and new supporters along the way.

Back to the coast already? Nope, just a mural, a little fun and trick photo set up.

We walked all over town, winding through the streets for about an hour. Quite a humbling and inspirational experience for me, I have to say.

This Thai restaurant always cooks up some food to offer, as their culture is wrapped around supporting monastics as much as the monastics are dependent upon the lay people for their livelihood. It's a good, symbiotic arrangement where everyone feels good.

Walking back to the park to eat, this store owner popped out with an offering -- the first time he's done so, they tell me. Fitting, though, since it's a spirituality bookstore!

This young woman is a serious supporter, has helped establish this tradition. She always brings good food for them. I understand that there are generally more supporters here at the park, but there was a conflict with a really-big-deal Thai monk who is in town for a few days, and the others understandably went to that opportunity.

At the behest of the monastics, I assume, the anagarika (novice) in the white robes collected a plate of food for me from that supporter, then shared the papaya and other things from the Thai restaurant with me, from her bowl. A woman had put a whole loaf of freshly-baked bread into one of the bowls earlier, and we all shared in that bounty!

Really a super day.


But, that wasn't the end of it. After lunch we and the woman from the park went for coffee indoors where it was warm, then the monastic groups all went to the Vihara and on to view a property that was a potential new permanent home, to be purchased rather than rented. It was a lovely place -- I'd love to live there and they liked it too, but it has serious accessibility issues and they need to consider those things both for supporters as well as themselves as they age.

And then -- some time to kill until 6pm when they did a Skype video-conference with a young man who lives elsewhere who had requested a memorial service for his recently departed uncle. I was ready to crash -- serious melt-down coming on -- so I went upstairs and lay down and got warm until it was almost over, then drove home, grumbling all the way because I've told them over and over on previous visits, pleaded and begged with them not to make me drive after late afternoon, and this had been sprung on me at the last minute. I was not a happy camper! I'd slept well the previous night, from exhaustion, and felt great, but this old body is too depleted, physically and emotionally, to recover from the stress of an 11 hour drive that quickly. I made it home with both bhikkhunis, safely, and of course I didn't really grumble all the way, only part of it. They got the message this time, however. I told them that I simply won't do it again. If they have an occasion that needs a driver that late in the day, it'll need to be somebody else. Period. I think they simply didn't realize previously how difficult it really is for me function after about 5pm. They, of course, were very kind and apologetic and are going out of their way today to continue the kind compassion. I love 'em all!

Then -- as we drove up the long driveway home, just of Hwy 1, we turned a corner and saw wispy fog drifting in, wafting all through the hills, just beautiful. My camera didn't capture the full beauty, but here's the best I could make happen.

Not a bad place to live, even temporarily!

 But by the time I climbed the hill and crawled into my sleeping bag, it was 9:45pm, and I was cold. Couldn't wind down quickly,couldn't really warm up, couldn't sleep. Finally, around 11:30 I got up and lit the fire in my stove, tended that for awhile, then managed to doze off maybe around 12:30. And up at 4am, of course. Today I'm resting again, other than cooking. Another big day here tomorrow with an unknown number of visitors coming to join in a day-long meditation retreat.

Magic Mountains -- and other stories

Mt. Shasta, from afar

You can argue with me all you want, but you'll never convince me that big mountains don't have magic. Prior to 1996, when I first experienced that magic at Mt. Rainier, I'd have probably been in the other camp myself. Magic? Hah! I'd spent two months riding my bike through Colorado's rockies, even climbed one of the fourteeners, but I'd never felt any magic.

But back in 1996 as I sat in my car in a pullout on that mountain, inside the park at the top of the road, I felt that mountain's energy. It filled the car and permeated my body. It was real, not imagined. I never saw the mountain itself -- it was shrouded in fog, but I sure could feel its presence.

Mt. Shasta, up close and personal, near Shasta City

Not all mountains seem to have that magic, or perhaps it's merely that I'm not picking up on the vibes of all mountains. However one chooses to feel about that, I personally have only experienced that magic at two mountains: Rainier, and this beauty, Mt. Shasta. I've driven past countless times, ridden past on a train, but it never fails to speak to me somewhere deep inside. Kind of hazy today, but at least not hiding in the clouds.

My craving for this baby was delayed by many hours -- had trouble finding the location in Redding, and by the time I found it I passed the entrance and the traffic was such that I couldn't get back to it without a lot more driving. I'd already driven all over town, so I gave it up, had another nut bar and some almonds for lunch. By the time I got to Petaluma, CA around 3pm I was feeling the need for food (almost 9 hours after leaving home). I am stubborn, refused to stop at any other fast food (read: junk) place, but I remembered that there was an In-N-Out on the map where I was routed to cross 101 in Petaluma, so I beelined there like a magnet. I gotta tell you, it was well worth the wait. I've eaten at In-N-Out several times in Santa Rosa, but never ventured past the basic burger and while it was OK, it was never great. This baby is the double-double animal style, medium rare with grilled onions and chiles. Juicy, delicious, my hands were covered in it afterwards. Ahhhhhh. Bliss.

Of course, Buddhist teachings would probably consider my issues finding the Redding location to be a type of karma -- a quick lesson in the suffering brought on by craving! And I can live with that.

I'm here, of course. Exactly 11 hours, door-to-door, with only a few brief stops before the 30 minutes or so for lunch.  I'm still tired, but happy. Weather is that perfect, welcome to California stuff the tourist bureau likes to talk about. Even here on the coast, the sun is warm, the breeze refreshing, and even the night wasn't particularly cold.

I've been given today as a day of rest, which is much appreciated. The others have gone into town for the afternoon. Tomorrow, I'll make that trip with Ayya, for some pindapat (alms-offerings from lay people to monastics) on the streets of Sebastapol. This is something she's started doing since I was last here, so it should be fun. It's scheduled, the route she walks is published, and people stand along the route with offerings for her bowl. This is how it's been done for centuries, in Asia, and it's a good tradition to keep alive even when it's not required.

I love my kuti. This is the view from one side in the early morning sun.  That bright spot is a bunch of Pampas grass, primarily.

So I'm here alone -- lunch is over, I've washed my hair and the dishes (although not in that order) and after hitting the 'publish' button on this, will wend my way back up the hill for some rest and reading.

A slightly closer view of the sunny area, with some detail. It's so pretty up there. A trail winds past the Pampas grass through some open areas, across a wooden bridge and to another kuti, eventually. I walked that this morning, re-familiarizing myself with my surroundings. Sat in the sun on the wooden bridge for awhile. It's nice to be here and be lazy -- rarely happens for me!

More when more happens.

A different way to spend the July 4th weekend

Last Saturday we had a wonderful day (weekend for some) at the Hermitage, Aranya Bodhi, formally blessing the three new buildings. These blessings are serious, but also tend to be a lot of fun as Ayya Tathaaloka throws water at everything (and sometimes everybody) within reach. I personally think monastics like this 'throwing water' part of a blessing. Bhante Gunaratana seemed to have great fun with it during the two precepts ceremonies I've taken part in at Bhavana. Sometimes his aim was really good, other times it missed, but there was always laughter.

Out of something like 137 photos I've distilled a few that I like, and/or that have meaning for me.

Ayya Sobhana blessing the meal offering.

Offerings for the various buildings, reflecting their use. These were put together by a couple of supporters, and were really beautiful.

L-R, Ayya Tathaaloka, Ayya Suvijjana, and Ayya Sobhana, who is reading a list of donors for the new sangha hall kuti.

Blessing the new shower. You can't realize what a big deal this is unless you've experienced the previous shower, which was merely a couple of tall shower tents loosely linked together at the edge of the forest. Bracing, especially in cool, windy weather. This is really 'downtown', as one supporter said.

The half-moon, overlooking the ceremonies. The full moon of July is the traditional beginning of Vassa, or rainy season, where monastics settle in one place and don't travel much (at least, that's my understanding; I have been known to be wrong).

Ayya Tathaaloka cutting ribbon to new kitchen on wheels.

The lighting on this one really spoke to me. Pure happenstance, as the offering for the kitchen was placed before the Buddha, prior to the reading of the donor's names.

Ayya Tathaaloka blessing the premises (aka, throwing water!)

Even the camera got a little blessing! Note water fuzz on lower right.

A lovely Dhamma talk from Ayya Tathaaloka. Some people had already left by then, and I couldn't get everybody in the photo from where I sat.

Ayya Suvijjana caught in the halo of light from the top of the yurt. She was squinting at the bright light, but it's just a lovely photo of a truly lovely bhikkhuni.

A walk up the hill

Since I've been here at Aranya Bodhi (almost 6 weeks now) I've had people ask about photos of this place, wondering what it looks like, and such. I had my camera down here (the kitchen) yesterday because of the blue flower photos, so I thought I'd take advantage of that and do a photo 'essay' of the walk up the trail to my kuti.

On the upper part of our property, called the 'saddle'. The flags guide visitors down the hill. My kuti is to the left, just opposite the flags.

A look down the hill from the flags. It's a winding road, so you can't see far. This is the road I walk down every morning in the dawn light.

When you drive down the hill, this is the first sign of 'civilization' you encounter. We call it the upper landing. On the left is the yurt that is used for a temple, meditation and other activities. On the right is the kitchen, where I spend much of my time. The road on the left spirals downhill to the lower landing, where all the solar panels, batteries, satellite internet receiver, shower, laundry and many other things are located. Off to the right is parking and a privy.

This trail feeds off the upper landing and goes up to the saddle. It's called the spring trail.

Not far from the landing is this barely discernible trail that leads to a kuti. I would have opted to stay in this one, except that it has a wood stove rather than a gas heater. I love that it's so close to everything, but also very private.

The terrain and scenery varies greatly as the trail winds uphill. And this is uphill, even though it doesn't show that so much in the photo.

This is the the spring that is tapped at the base of this tree. It supplies all our water, in great abundance.

This bridge is not too far above the spring. At the top of the steps, a trail leads to the right to Ratana kuti, which I also like very much. To this point, the trail is a delightful walk through the forest.

This is where it starts to get hard! From Ratana kuti up, it's a grind and these deep steps are only the beginning. Hard for old bodies like mine to manage.

A good bit beyond the steps -- my kuti, at the top of the hill. You can see at the far right where the trail continues and reaches sunlight.

Emerging from the trail, this is the top of the property. The flags are behind me. When this road emerges into sunshine, in the distance, it takes a right turn to head downhill once again and off the property. I play a 'fool the mice' game every day, move my car from this spot to a spot in the distant sunshine. Does it work? Hard to tell, but I haven't seen any more signs of mice in the car, so hopefully they are not in hidden places, either.

This is the view from the nose of my car where it's shown in the above photo. Somewhere off on this sunny spot is where they hope to someday build a permanent structure, with electricity, indoor plumbing, all the comforts of home.

 

At the other end of the road in its second parking spot. This large field is full of waving grasses and wildflowers.

 From the car looking up the hill to the top, where the ancient stone stupa is. There's a trail leading up there, but it's overgrown and can't really be seen here. The stupa shows as a pointy white object at the top of the meadow, just left of center. Hard to see.

So that's the tour. Hope you enjoyed.

An afternoon at the beach

Our monastics and the steward from the Vihara in Santa Rosa are here for the weekend, and it's so lovely to have them! Yesterday, when we delivered the noon meal to our beloved Abbess, Ayya Tathaaloka, she asked if anyone was interested in going to the beach that afternoon. Neither of the other monastics wanted to go, so we two lay women spent a wonderful 3 hours or so with Ayya T --- a rare opportunity, given her general health.

There's a cove nearby where access is relatively easy from the highway -- a lengthy walk through cooling woods, but no steep descent or ascent. The day was warm and sunny, only a few people were on the beach -- a lovely change of pace from the forest, which we all love.

For some reason, this father and son intrigued me.

Ayya actually got into the water for about 20 minutes (cold water!), as the swirling motion of the tide is good for her. We wimpy lay people got our feet wet, but kept to the warm sand for the most part.

All in all, a beautiful day. I'm grateful to have been there, and to be here.

Losing weight, Hermitage style

Ratana (Jewel) Kuti

One of the side benefits I hoped to gain from my time in the forest was burning fat off my body. It happened last summer, certainly, but of course with the stress and such of the winter (excuses!) I put it back on, plus some. Tomorrow I will have been here four weeks, so last night I dug out the tape measure (no, not brought for the purpose, merely one of many odds and ends that ended up in my car) and took a reading.

At first glance, the numbers didn't look too encouraging. But this morning, back at the computer and the chart that records these things, I found that I have indeed lost an inch all around. Not enough, but a very good beginning. Now, I hope it continues for the next month, or however long I am here.

After several cold days, today started out with a heavy fog despite forecasts of warmth and sunshine. That fog began lifting very early -- before 7am -- and now we do indeed have sunshine, a good breeze and the promise of warmth later on. Tis a lovely day in the redwoods. Actually, all days in the redwoods are lovely, regardless of weather conditions.

Tomorrow a trip to Santa Rosa, Friday a trip for me into Guerneville to do my laundry. Company (the other two monastics plus another lay person, from the Vihara in Santa Rosa) arriving for the weekend. It will be nice to have Ayya Tathaaloka on the premises, even though I may not see her. Her health keeps her confined to her kuti for the most part, but her wonderful presence will be felt, I'm sure. She is a joy.

So -- no lunch to prepare for two days! I don't mind preparing lunch, but it's nice to have a break. Another woman who lives on this land (the donor) very kindly prepares lunch for us every Wednesday, and tomorrow a supporter in Sebastapol has offered lunch to both of us so that we (she in particular) may eat within the designated time and still make her 12:45pm medical appointment.

So -- other than being cold way beyond the realities of living in the forest, and a whining knee, life is good here.

A way cool evening

There are times when I really feel my age -- and realize that I should probably just admit that there are just some things I can't do.  Last night was one of those times, and yet, even though my body complained the entire time, I'm so very glad I went. For me, it's probably a once-in-a-lifetime experience.

This is the mouth of the Russian River. As you can see, it's calm and peaceful at this point, perfect for kayaking. Especially perfect for kayaking at sunset/moonrise.

Moonrise over the eastern hills. Kind of fuzzy -- handheld in a floating boat, after all. It was orange, really -- sorry the color didn't really shine through here.

 

A bit later, from a different location. Not bad for handheld, really.

Still later, from the beach. We'd beached the kayaks on the river side, then walked across to the Pacific to meditate. I didn't do much meditating -- lay back exhausted and watched the stars and moon and listened to the sounds of incoming tide and surf.

I had a white-water kayak for a year and loved it, but aside from playing with my boat in still water enough to learn to make it go in a straight line (not easy in a whitewater kayak!), I didn't do much flatwater paddling. Whitewater is very different from paddling in still water. In whitewater, you're mostly moving with the current of the stream you're on and the paddle is used mostly for steering, keeping upright, maybe paddling through a rapid. This was constant paddling, and we took an extra long route, hoping to find a different place to stop. After awhile, my arms felt as if they were going to fall off! It didn't help that I'd spent an hour using a old-fashioned slingblade to clear weeds and grasses along a trail that afternoon, so my arms were tired before we even started.

I just didn't have the strength for this kind of thing, and alternated between internal whining and full awareness of the beauty and joy of being where I was. I'm sore and stiff this morning, and tomorrow morning will be worse, no doubt, but I'm so glad I went. I was up way past my bedtime so I'm a little groggy this morning, will make an easy day of it.

But what an experience! Many thanks to the people who made it happen.