Thursday, March 12, 2009
The forty-ninth day. I had become so use to having you around my friend. We had been together since you were four weeks old. Seven years is a dream a phantom a flash of lightning in a night sky. It's all a dream within a dream.
My Buddhist friends of the Sangha tell me your rebirth is now complete. That I should trust that you have had an auspicious rebirth, perhaps in the human realm where you can now practice.
I know this much...
You have already had a life of practice. You were my teacher, you showed me the Tao. You spent many hours, days, months and years hearing the chants, breathing in the incense, sitting patiently as I sat, walking endless miles through the mountain trails purposelessly with no mind.
I find no appeal in any alternative except for the one I instinctively know: That I will always be committed in some way to spirituality, everything else is so temporary and unsteady. Every thing enevitably comes to an end.
So now I remember the questions from the old Taoist Master:
Can you love people(and animals)and leave them without imposing your will?
Can you deal with the most vital matters by letting events take their course?
Can you step back from your own mind and understand all things?
Having without posessing
I'll miss you, think of you often and look forward to the day when our paths cross again.