(no subject)
Just back from a short retreat. One day of silence, lots of good meditation, interesting and important teaching, and fine food and people. I didn't put up my tent, expecting torrential rain that turned out to be brief showers, bah, but sleeping inside was OK. I just really missed the peace of being tucked away in my own tiny space with the moon outside, but I did get to sleep by a window and watch the moon go by.
I love the day of silence. It's not that my life is what it used to be when I was working, with interaction overload every day, and certainly I have days at home that are quiet--but on retreat, no computer or phone as well as no conversation, and the only books are slow and thoughtful about meditation. And there's something just especially peaceful about being silent with other people around. Maybe silence is unremarkable when I'm alone, but with other people, the absence of the usual words is notable.
On the silent morning, I woke up early and sat on the porch with some other people, drinking tea and watching the horses across the field slowly strolling around in the mist. We ate together quietly and wandered through the woods. I was sad when the time came to talk again, although we all had so much to say to each other and the conversations were good...
One of the group I was with is an architect, and he's set up several Buddhas at various places in the woods. This one is Korean, we think.
I love the day of silence. It's not that my life is what it used to be when I was working, with interaction overload every day, and certainly I have days at home that are quiet--but on retreat, no computer or phone as well as no conversation, and the only books are slow and thoughtful about meditation. And there's something just especially peaceful about being silent with other people around. Maybe silence is unremarkable when I'm alone, but with other people, the absence of the usual words is notable.
On the silent morning, I woke up early and sat on the porch with some other people, drinking tea and watching the horses across the field slowly strolling around in the mist. We ate together quietly and wandered through the woods. I was sad when the time came to talk again, although we all had so much to say to each other and the conversations were good...
One of the group I was with is an architect, and he's set up several Buddhas at various places in the woods. This one is Korean, we think.