Why here?

It's a breezy, sunny day here on the Sonoma Coast. Cool in the shade, but lovely in the sun or in a sun-warmed space. I've been here two days now, have put my kuti into proper shape for long-term occupancy, although we are still going to install a coat rack and a small shelf. Like everything else, it's at the top of the hill from where I sit now, typing this, but from day one I've forced myself to walk the hills, not drive up out of laziness. The only way to get my walking legs and lungs back is to walk the hills, so I'm doing that a couple of times a day, at least. And they are not small hills. They are steep. My lungs are improving rapidly, but I admit to some sore lower-body muscles that are used in climbing hills! That will pass, the muscles will strengthen and harden, and hopefully, the fat will melt away. I can only hope!

Before I drove down here I had several people ask me in a short time-span why I like to come here, or to other Buddhist monastic locations. I've had simple answers to offer to that question, which is not an uncommon one, but one person pushed me to think a bit deeper and I did that on the drive south. Two days ago I had wonderful words on the subject. Today, those words are no longer part of the present, but I'll try to answer the question anyway.

Aside from the physical beauty of these hundreds of acres of redwoods, the sight of the blue Pacific that looms when we drive out to the highway, as we did this morning, and the peaceful sounds of nature and the forest, I think the real answer is the people. Particularly monastics, since we lay people are generally less accomplished in our practice, less skillful at moderating our actions and words. I also want to help, to give back in some small way for all that has been given to me in terms of teaching. I love being able to ease some small part of their burden, to do a simple task that they may not be allowed to do, such as drive a car, spend money or even prepare their own meals. The two go together. The people are wonderful, and that brings out a better part of me that wants to give of myself to them, in terms of my labor, and to please them in such a way to bring happiness to all of us.

The monastics, as well as some of the other lay people who might visit here, are generally wrapped in such things as metta (loving-kindness), compassion, generosity, joy in the happiness of others, contentment with just what they have at the moment even if what's present is painful to them. Rarely are voices raised, and when they are it's generally due to an egregious display of unacceptable behavior on the part of a lay person and even then, it's only a reprimand. Anger, along with all its little subtitles such as impatience, irritation, resentment, intolerance, hostility, sarcasm and thoughtless words and general mean ill-will, is almost unknown from both monastics and long-time lay practitioners.

Our world in general is not like that. Does your world lack anger, snippiness, hostile words, mean words? Are you part of a world that has no violence, no hatred, no rude or unfriendly behavior even from your loved ones? If so, you are lucky. Few of us live in that world, and some of us are willing to give up some 'normal' comforts of life in order to find that kind of existence, that kind of world, even temporarily. That doesn't totally separate us from the reality of world events, from the violence and anger and brutality that exist in this world and that frequently enter into our 'entertainment'.  We read the news. We aren't hiding from that reality, or sticking our head into the ground to escape, to pretend it doesn't exist. We are simply choosing to live a different kind of life, amongst others with similar feelings. A place where we are not confronted with anger in daily life -- whether on newscasts, TV shows, movies, road rage, or even a loved one who is having a bad day or a series of bad days.

Lay visitors come with differing backgrounds and issues, differing levels of accomplishment. Some are difficult, some are easy. My first visit here was very difficult. I struggled with the terrain (had just had about 10 stitches removed from a skin cancer excision on my calf), with sleep, with energy, with the entire environment. I was less skillful then in my practice, and it showed. We are all still people and generally people with issues of one kind or another. Still, good behavior and getting along with others is encouraged and even necessary, for a peaceful existence for all concerned.

I use the universal 'we' here, but these are my thoughts. Others have their own reasons and I can't speak for them. I can only say that this is the atmosphere that's created here, and at other monastic residences, and that being around people like this is a wonderful influence on me, a true gift in terms of helping me grow in my own practice, to ferret out whatever bits of anger remain in me, and help me to cultivate qualities such as love, compassion, peace, harmony, generosity and good-will. These are the kind of people I like to be around, and the kind of person I'm working to become. These are happy people, and I'm a happy person most of the time. Why choose to surround myself with unhappy, angry people? I need smiles, laughter, a good sense of humor, and most of all -- kindness. So I find it here, then when I return home there's more of all that in me, and it lasts, becomes part of who I am and becomes more and more the type of person I want to be around. I learn and grow here, and all that brings happiness. The hardships of living on the land melt away and become unimportant.

What's not to like about that?

Ooooohhhhhhhh!

Ohhhhhh!

That seemed to be the limit of my vocabulary early this morning as I drove from Eugene to the Coast. First, the road begins to wind its way over the Coast range, alongside a stream surrounded by old, thick trees whose branches were curved and arching in beautiful patterns, all moss-topped and breathtaking in the morning light. Then when I reached the Siuslaw River just before Florence it started again -- I'm just a sucker for rivers and bridges and pilings and piers jutting out and the whole picturesque scene. Naturally, neither of these particular sights offered an opportunity for stopping to take pictures.

Other Ohhhhhhs! followed here and there along the length of the coast, which is itself one of my favorite places on earth. I stopped often for photos, but none of them are really interesting. I stopped for lunch at my favorite place, The Crazy Norwegian's, in Port Orford, but passed on their fabulous fish and chips because I was having some tonight. Bad choice! The clam chowder and sourdough bread was as delicious as I expect food there to be. But tonight, I arrived at the remembered place in Brookings to find that it had changed -- and not for the better! No more fishing supplies, more tables, a fancier and more expensive menu, and the fish and chips were barely more than mediocre. A good example of the Buddhist theory that everything changes. And maybe a reminder of the dangers of craving anything.

So -- tomorrow on to California, the Sonoma Coast. And while none of today's photos were particularly good, I'd like to share them anyway because I just can't help myself. Unfortunately, the slow download speed of the wireless in this motel won't allow that. This, too, has been a disappointment -- prior stays here have been terrific. But -- no matter. It's clean and private, the bed is good and the tv works. And I don't want to do much more than sleep.

The present, the future

So here I sit, approaching 6am and barely light outside, sipping coffee and watching the world come alive outside and in the garden. Even the chickens are still abed!

This is kind of what I'm looking at right now, although it was much brighter outside when I took this photo yesterday than it is this early in the morning.

This is such a sweet place -- I plan to come back and stay, sometime in August once the incoming, short-term renter has moved on. Then, with my own things in place and settled in, I can make it 'home' and be quite comfortable here. It's small (although larger than the kuti I'll be living in for the next 3 months) but all the windows, skylight and open ceiling make it feel much larger. I don't feel at all claustrophobic and I love the interaction outside during the day with the chickens, cats, a sweet dog, and even the humans.  There's lots and lots I can do for comfort.

A closer look outside -- the chickens and part of the garden, plus the 'catio', a clever place just outside the window that would allow an inside cat to spend some time outside without escaping.

The mess and clutter are mine -- camping out! The sleeping nook will hold a full-size bed, although it's a bit snug. I'll be using my air mattress and may move it beneath the window by the chickens, on some kind of platform, and use it as a day-bed/sofa as well. The nook can be used for many things -- a dresser, a meditation spot, whatever feels right. The bath is tiny, but functional.

More of my temporary clutter messing up a very nice space. With all the built-ins I'll have room for all my kitchen stuff and books and whatever.

The cottage itself, in the morning light. Not it's best angle -- it's actually quite cute -- but I didn't want to venture further into the garden and disturb anyone so early. Garlic in front of the deck -- gotta love that!

The deck, again in the early morning light. Nothing stirring out there at this point other than a hummingbird.

So -- the present moment and the future home. Today I'm driving south along the beautiful (and beloved by me) Oregon Coast to my old home in Brookings, where I'll stay overnight before heading on to California tomorrow. There's a big basket of Oregon fish & chips awaiting me tonight at my favorite spot down at the harbor. My real favorite spot, of course, is The Crazy Norwegian's in Port Orford, but I'm going to bypass that today and settle for another rather funky place (a few tables in the back of a fisherman's supply store/bait shop) that has really good fish and chips and draft beer.

Home

Despite the previous bitching about the speed and un-fun of the trip, I am SO, SO glad to be in Eugene! The trip began to be perfect and worthwhile once we left the city of Bend behind and headed into and over the beautiful Cascade Mountains.

This morning, albeit initially with some trepidation and fear regarding getting lost, I ventured from my friend's hideaway in the woods outside of town to run some errands. First stop was a laundromat, then on to a State Farm office to be sure I was going to remain covered with the car over the interim few months before I move back here to stay. My current coverage expired in late August, so having my new coverage material returned to sender would probably not be a good thing. I found my old agency here in Eugene and they took care of the transfer, using my friend's address temporarily. So, not only am I covered, but my rate was cut almost in half! I was hoping it would go down, because it certainly went up when I got to Georgia, but wasn't expecting that much of a break. No complaints here.

All those initial fears about getting lost have been (so far) without merit. As I suspected, once I got into town everything looked familiar and I was able to find my way around without too much trouble. People are smiling and friendly, and finally my Oregon sweatshirt and rear window decals fit right in.

With an hour to kill before my next appointment (the new landlady!) I found a nice cafe with free wireless and here I sit, writing this. Drinking a mango/banana/Nancy's yogurt smoothie and eating a vegan oatmeal chocolate chip cookie. I wasn't quite ready for a 'normal' lunch, but since I needed to buy something in order to hang around, this fit the bill, and is really good, and mostly healthy.

Talked to the potential landlady twice last evening, and she suggested that since the cottage is clean and waiting for the next tenant (a 2-month rental starting in a couple of weeks), I was welcome to use it as a motel room for a couple of days before heading south. That way, I can get a good feel for how it would be to live there, see how I do with the chickens (not a problem!) and the two of us can get to know one another. So if upon inspection it seems like a place I could live, that's exactly what I'm going to do. How kind of her to offer!  My friend's place is really small, and there's not much for me to do there, no wireless access, so I think this is a perfect solution.

I'm still looking forward to the summer in California, but Eugene feels like home, and that's a good thing.

Fast times

We are in the small town of Burley, Idaho -- last stop on what has become a whirlwind trip to the west coast. Not what I had in mind when I left Georgia -- I was looking forward to leisurely trip with some relaxation thrown in, so I wouldn't be so tired at the end. Instead -- 5 push-push-push days that haven't been even an iota of fun, certainly not relaxing, and forget about not being tired. I'm pooped -- and it's so hard to unwind after long days on the road.

Last night we were in Eagle, CO, near Vail. Before that, Salina, KS. Before that, someplace I don't even remember. Tomorrow night -- 601 miles later -- we will hopefully be in Eugene. I have a lovely cottage awaiting my inspection for rental in August, some laundry to do, hopefully a bit of rest, then on Wednesday I head south to the hermitage, where I am sorely needed. Once again, Ayya Sobhana has been left alone there due to unforeseen circumstances (someone left due to an emergency, another cancelled due to family illness). So once again -- but only for a few weeks -- I will be chief cook and bottle washer, but this time in the new kitchen, rather than the makeshift (but quite useable) outdoor kitchen of last summer. I'm really looking forward to being there again, in the peace and quiet and friendship.

Also looking forward to returning to Eugene in August and -- if I like the place after I see it, and if the owner likes me -- setting up housekeeping in the cottage. It's tiny, but set in a garden with plenty of veggies, fruit trees, berry patches and even chickens for eggs -- all of which are available for grazing.

That's it for now. Just needed to chill a bit, and writing here always chills me out. Haven't had time to take many photos, but what I have will appear here eventually.

One the road again -- almost

Well, wouldn't you know that my next-to-last night in Georgia was spent in my most favorite way: waiting for the tornadoes to hit. Once again, this area was spared. A big thunder boomer shook the house around 3 or 4 am, a few later rumbles, but that was it. At the moment there's just rain, and after that the radar shows clear. Unfortunately, they are still saying that another storm is coming up after this one, although it sure doesn't show up on the radar. On the other hand, this one didn't show up on the radar until late afternoon yesterday. Aside from not sleeping overly well, all is well here.

The house is almost empty. I loaded the trunk yesterday (partly because I had bad thoughts about having to do it in the rain, and partly because I'm paranoid about leaving the house overnight tonight when people in this neighborhood know I'm moving and might think I'm gone and try to break in). I've said before, it's a dicey neighborhood, although most residents are good people. There's always a few you can't trust.

So -- today I need to finish packing (had to wait through breakfast today, to use the coffeemaker and the blender for my morning smoothie). Also have to dismantle my 'bed' -- deflate the air mattress, roll up the sleeping bag, etc., and get those into their shipping box. Later in the day I'll have to disconnect the computer, take the modems back to Charter (they say I've had them long enough to pay for them, but last time I disconnected from Charter they told me the same thing and I returned them anyway -- the person who gave me the receipt for them told me it was a good thing I'd returned them because otherwise I'd have been charged for them, so I'm not taking any chances. Don't need them anyway).

I can check into the motel in Bremen at 3pm so I plan to do that, and have a much more comfortable place to chill out until it's time to leave for the airport. Tomorrow morning we'll come here, take the rest of the furnishings to the neighbor next door, load the rest of the stuff into the car, and head west. You probably won't hear from me for a couple of days -- on the road somewhere.

Cuteness

If this isn't cute, I don't know what is. The first of the Red Tail Hawks eggs hatched in the wee small hours, and mama hasn't been willing to give us much more than a glimpse. Even this was a short-lived view, but one quick viewer captured it and tweeted it. Another egg is in the process of hatching. This little one hasn't been fed yet, and when that happens, we'll all get a better look. For those of you who don't know: you can watch them here.

The little fellow finally got some food, the fell over onto it's back. Notice the tiny little feet, and the belly. And on the right, the last egg over, you can see another fuzz ball, which is the second one fighting its way out of the shell. Soon we'll have two bobbleheaded fuzzballs, and probably not too long afterwards, three. Super cute.

A little later -- the second is finding great success in working its way out of the shell. E1 (first hatched) seems to want more food.  Right after this Big Red (mom) rolled the hatching egg and sat back on top of all of them, which may have put a crimp in E2's style.

Three more days.

I'm a patient person, for the most part. I've patiently waited out the last 6 months here, waiting for spring so I could fold up my tent and leave. I've patiently (for the most part) traveled through the mire and mud of selling my belongings, mostly through Craig's List. I've patiently (more or less) used a lawn chair for my only seating for well over a month now. I'm patiently sleeping on an air mattress on the floor. I'm patiently living without a real way to cook food. Patiently waiting for the next step to arrive. But, I think in the next few days that patience is going to be tried even further and frankly, for the past few days I've felt on the losing end of the whole patience thing.

The good news is that we're down to THREE more days. How hard is it to be patient for three days, you ask? Ordinarily, not at all hard. Until you add 6 months onto those three days. And keep taking away what comforts remain. And add a new bunch of screaming kids at the rental house next door into the picture. Starting today, I'm moving my car into the back yard behind the house, because last night the bicycles were edging far too close to it. Behind the house seems to be the only safe place.

Today, my dryer is supposedly going. Tomorrow, the refrigerator, washer, the only table and lamp left in the living room. Somebody inquired yesterday about the desk/table my computer sits on, but for better or worse, I never heard back from them. Frankly, I'm happy to keep it and give it away at the end.

But hey, I'll still have the lawn chair, a clip-on desk light that'll fit somewhere and give some light to the darkness here when need be. And I'll have a cooler and a microwave and my coffee maker and blender. What more can I ask?

The impatience is showing in crabbiness. I'm sleeping really well -- not sure why, but it may well be that air mattress. I inflated it to a softness that's kind of like a waterbed and I've slept through the night for 4 or 5 nights in a row, so there's no reason I should be tired and cranky.

I think it's all just catching up with me. I'm ready to go. I'm ready for a return to some creature comforts (the summer in the redwoods is going to feel luxurious after this!). I'm ready to pack the car, drop a few boxes at Greyhound en route, and hit the road northwest.

THREE MORE DAYS. THREE MORE DAYS. THREE MORE DAYS.

Priceless

I should have posted this before, because it's such a great souvenir of my last trip to Bhavana with the two Bhikkhunis (nuns). That's yours truly on the left, Bhante Gunarantana in the middle, Ayya Sudhamma, and Ayya Sobhana. Not the kind of opportunity I'd have had as just a lay visitor -- Ayya Sobhana was behind this one!

This last week is winding down.  Only FIVE days left until my friend arrives from Eugene. The next day, we leave for Oregon. Things still clutter the house, but mostly they are things I want and need for the next few days -- the desk, a lamp and table, refrigerator, washer/dryer, and heater. Most of them have a home awaiting, the rest will go to Goodwill. Now, I get to finish up final details. Today I'm having lunch with an elderly cousin. Tomorrow I need to go to Rome to get the car serviced, my haircut, and a final recycling run. Little things. Mostly, just waiting.

Yesterday I drove into Atlanta to have lunch with a couple who I know through the monthly half-day meditation retreats I attend. I've always known they were a really special pair -- together and individually -- but of necessity our conversations in the past have been of short duration. In the two hours yesterday we all got to know one another better, which makes it even harder to leave them behind. I think they'll come visit -- sure hope so! Alan gave me a lovely book that I can't wait to read, Breakfast with Buddha, and Julie gave me one of the most precious gifts I've ever received in my entire life. I knew there was something she wanted me to take with me -- that was the original point of the lunch -- but when she pulled a beautiful paisley stole from her bag my mouth dropped open, and her words brought tears. She said she could have bought something new for me, but she wanted me to have something of hers that she loved, so that every time I wrap it around me to ward off chills in meditation rooms (or elsewhere) I would know that there is somebody somewhere who loves me. If that's not special, I don't know what is. The stole is exquisite -- but the words are priceless.

Not much to say after that. 

The rest of the story....

First of all, I have to say how good it feels to be home for a few weeks! The travels were all lovely, but still -- there's no place like home, even if that home is a ramshackle mill house whose better days are far in the past.

So -- to the story. The day had begun with a constant downpour as I drove from Greenville to Charlotte in the morning darkness, trying to see the very pale white lane stripes so I'd know where to go. The downpour continued on and off the rest of the morning, and that's probably a good thing because I think rain is part of what made this story have a happy (or at least, happier) ending. Traffic was moving more slowly.

We left Charlotte driving north on Interstate 77. Just before the exit to Troutman, NC (about 35 miles) I noticed the car ahead of me in the right lane (only two lanes) suddenly slow, then pull to the shoulder and stop. There was no traffic ahead of this car, so not understanding why it had pulled over, I slowed, then the traffic in the left lane stopped. Again, no traffic on the pavement within sight ahead, in either lane, so I also slowed. Then -- we saw this huge longhorn cow down on the pavement, mostly in the left lane but straddling both. She (it?) was struggling to stand up and was just inches in front of the bumper of a huge semi-rig. It was a horrible sight to see, not knowing what had happened, assuming the semi had hit the cow (and what was she doing on a fenced off interstate in the first place?).

I was driving two bhikkunis (Buddhist nuns) to a monastery in WV. They immediately began chanting something in Pali for the benefit of the animal. Then, one of them said, "I'm getting out", and both got out to go and protect the cow from further injury by autos. My heart fell into my gut as I watched them do this, but there would be no way to stop them. Buddhists protect all animal life, even longhorn cows on the interstate.

I pulled up behind the first car that had stopped. The cow eventually got to her feet and stood dazed at first. The nuns spoke briefly to the woman in the first car, hollered at me to call 911, then went back to the cow, which fortunately was of a kind and gentle nature and not intent upon harming them. The cow started ambling down the fast lane, with the two nuns following as its protectors. I don't care what your religious views are, nobody is going to run down a pair of orange-robed Buddhist monastics. They are very visible, if nothing else!

I didn't call 911 because I saw that the first woman was already doing so. I got out of the car to double check with her. She told me that the cow fell out of the back of a big truck as it was driving down the freeway. The back door of the truck was open, and the poor creature simply fell out. She was not hit by the truck, or anything else (one of the nuns later told me that the truck was about 12" from the cow). Since I didn't witness it, I can only assume that the truck carrying the cows was at the tail end of a group of cars that had a long clear space behind them. Remember, I couldn't see any vehicles ahead and we had a good long view. This gave the alert trucker time to stop, and the woman ahead of me slowed the other lane. Again, traffic was moving at less than normal freeway speeds because of the rain.

So, I stood with this woman and we watched the bhikkhunis get further and further away from us, leading the now lengthy parade of vehicles behind them. The cow wandered from one side of the road to the other. My heart was still in my gut somewhere, hoping that whatever protection those two women had would stay strong. Eventually, the cow wandered off onto the grassy shoulder on the right, and we moved our cars up the shoulder to that point. Hence the photo above. A few other people randomly stopped to help. I saw a man far ahead get out of a truck at one point, and there seems to be a man in the above photo. The men eventually went on their way, but two other women stopped (one shown above in green jacket) and stayed until it was over, helping.

So -- after the episode on the grass, traffic was again moving but very slowly and cautiously, and the cow decided to head to the grassy median between the north and southbound lanes of the freeway. There was fencing on both sides, but it had gaps and there was the fear that it would escape through onto the southbound lanes through a gap and that would have been the end of the cow as well as possibly some cars and humans.

Between the four women they more or less cornered the cow near a fence on our side. About that time the troopers arrived, smiling. I moved my car up to a gap in the traffic so they could get up the shoulder closer to the action.

So here they are. Troopers had rope in hand, cautiously took a moment to decide how best to get it over those deadly horns and around the animal's neck. Notice one bhikkhuni spreading her arms, using her robes to help keep the cow where she was.

Cow is safely secured and the other end of the rope being tied to the fence by the trooper. So glad this was a calm-natured cow!  She (it?) didn't appear to be hurt, other than some skinned spots on her bony haunches where she hit the pavement. Happy story until this point -- but I'm sure that she was being transported to a slaughterhouse and eventually arrived at that fate.

With the cow secured, the troopers stopped traffic so all four women could safely cross the interstate back to their vehicles. One of the bhikkhunis told the story to a supporter in Charlotte, who called the troopers office and found that a private truck had come and loaded the cow safely.

As the driver, and feeling very responsible for these two women, I breathed a sigh of relief and fervently hoped that this was the only highway incident we'd encounter for the rest of the trip. Fortunately, it was. But it was a tense 15-20 minutes!