See You Up There...

Heading up to the next state north for the study-meeting with Roshi. It will be more difficult this time than when I went in January. They are in their practice period schedule. Wakeup bell at 3:40 AM. All meals with oryoki. Etc.

Really don' wanna. Will anyway. Back Friday.

A decade ago I used to make this trip a lot more often, in parallel with several other people. (A highway patrolman once nailed three separate vehicles full of us, all speeding north up US 285 to get to an ordination ceremony.) Here is a ghost story from those days:

Date: Tue, 20 May 1997
From: (mb in santa fe)
To: (wc)
Subject: ghost

It turns out that the only thing wrong with my answering machine is that the volume was turned down, so I couldn't hear any messages people had left. Wondering if I could figure out what I had missed, I rewound/played back repeatedly until the machine agreed to play me all the messages it had on its tape. Including, as it turned out, very old ones somehow stranded on parts of the tape apparently never recorded over. Back back back in time I went, techno messages from my boss, New Years greetings from my Mom (which year?), suddenly there was a part of a crying message from an unidentifiable voice who had just heard about R's death. October 1995, I just had time to think. And then there was R, not only his voice but his living self: a messsage like probably fifty others I heard over the years. Hi cutie, have you heard from J, how many vehicles do we need to take, give me a call if the arrangements unravel, see you up there.

See you up there.

Since here and now I wasn't on my way to the mountain and R is nineteen months dead, what seemed most likely was that... that what? That what seemed to be now was actually some other past time, or some present parallel time, in which R was, is, still alive. The tape itself seemed more real than any reality I know.

R is now a further ten years dead. When I was on the mountain in January, I didn't offer incense at his stone. Must do it this time.

Migrating Northwest

Ever so slowly.

By the fall, I will be closer to the ocean. Meanwhile, nearly comatose with fear of change; and thinking nearly every minute about work, as I have done for about the past 20 years... that work which will no longer be in the center of my life beginning about the middle of July. The center of my life will be the sound of waves on the shore. And if it's not enough, whew, then what.

Since I offered to make this blog, I have been north to meet with my teacher; and south, to meet with sandhill cranes; and have weathered (ha ha, inadvertent pun) about six weeks of unlikely unlocal deep snow winter; and for the first time, after 22 years, am having anxiety dreams about the workplace every night.

Boy, I really don't know about this. But ok. Here is a place for the community of people who kept in touch with Bookinista to keep in touch with each other.

Hello out there.