The jasmine is blooming. There is hope. It is magnificent. I feel like Emily Dickinson. I draw into the folds of the leaves, the curl of the petals, the world here suffused with simmering heat. Last night thunder roiled furiously, an event seldom experienced here. There is movement in my life that is different from travelling. Inwardly, I feel abit like Pooh Bear knowing that if I do not roll with it I will be stuck in the hole of the honey tree unable to get in or out. A kind of havoc starts up when I revert to former modus operandi so I am learning to let go. Deciding that I need to cultivate this further I am travelling after all, and going to an island, mid coast, for a five day Bhuddist Retreat with lamas and monks and what not. I have to go through caffeine withdrawal which isn't a pretty picture. I am not really sure what is going to happen except they seem to be a quiet bunch, practicing silence, which is just fine with me. It has been brought to my attention that letting go is the heart of Bhuddism so I go to this heart willingly. It isn't about the Bhuddism. It is about befriending the mind and cultivating a discipline so that it serves the heart, and it is this which I seek. I will have a private visit with a lama every day. I hope it isn't weird.
