24 March 2011


The hermit had been waiting for a letter from his long lost love for many years...his beard had grown long, gardens flourished...many moons had waxed and waned.  One day he heard the bell which signaled a letter had been placed in the box at the end of his path.  He dressed for the weather and walked, looking at the beauty of the flowers in the rain.  Upon opening the box he found a letter addressed to him from his long lost love.  Closing the box and seeing sunlight streaming through the misty clouds he slowly walked back to his retreat, breathing the fresh, moist air.  He placed the letter visibly at the center of his small table.  He gazed at it while he lit a fire beneath his water kettle.  He selected a few dried herbs hanging from his rafters with which to make tea.  Yes!  These would be just right.  He put his cup beside the letter, crumpling just the right amount of leaves into it he then poured the steaming water.  He sat.  Smelling the herbs brewing and feeling the presence of the as yet unopened letter, he waited.  He was letting the sadhana build.

No comments:

As the world burns

Vietnam: As an advisor and liaison I lead native troops but nonetheless was looked upon as the "supreme local power", way too muc...