Craving, desire and greed

Greed, craving and desire are at the heart of the Buddha's teaching in the Four Noble Truths: the first is the truth of suffering, the dissatisfaction or unhappiness we inevitably feel in our lives. The second truth is the origin of suffering, which is our own undisciplined grasping mind. Third is cessation, the truth that by eliminating desire and craving it is possible to end our suffering. Fourth is the noble eightfold path, which is the way to end suffering.

That greed, or desire, is also an insidious thing in Buddhist practice -- at least in my experience. On the other hand, if it were easy to spot and end we wouldn't suffer in the first place.

We think we know what greed is, and on the most basic level, we do. Recognizing the many ways greed inserts itself into our thoughts and actions, however, is a great deal more difficult. Years ago when I first began my walk down this path I thought I had a pretty good handle on greed and felt that I was basically greed-free. It's humbling to see and admit just how wrong I was and continue to be on this subject!

With that in mind I want to relate an experience I had a couple of years ago (January 31, 2011 to be exact).

I don't know how other people's minds work with regard to insights, but with me, big insights rarely happen all at once. Instead, over a period of time (months or years, even) I get a series of hunches, feelings, minor insights that float around unconnected in the back of my mind until something pulls all these scraps together into a cohesive whole. Much of the time, these bits of data center around things that aren't particularly flattering to me, meaning I really don't want to sit and look at them. Eventually, I'm driven to do so. That's what happened with this experience.

I'd had insights and hunches and feelings over a period of years (from even before I began meditating) regarding one particular subject, didn't know how to connect them but knew they were connected and important. I sat on my cushion with the intent of solving this mystery.  I asked, "What am I supposed to learn from this? What does it mean? What am I supposed to be seeing that I'm not seeing?". After only a few moments, something spectacular happened that totally changed my life.

It was the proverbial 'light bulb' moment, complete with bright light and an accompanying strong sensation that totally filled my mind and body. My entire life flashed across my mind's eye in moments, showing how I'd craved more and more and more -- more than what I had or could ever expect to have sometimes -- since I was a small child and right up to that current moment when I was obsessing over finding a way to redo my kitchen even though I couldn't realistically afford to do so. More importantly, I clearly saw how this ongoing, deep craving for more had brought a lifetime of suffering along with it. 

This realization was so strong that at that very moment I said, no more. No more of this craving and no more of the suffering that goes with it. It stops now. This giving up or letting go of craving seemed to trigger an even greater response -- deepened and multiplied the existing light and sensations and thrust me into an overwhelming experience that was almost other-worldly. I sat wrapped up in the wonder of it all for awhile, observing what was happening, the feelings (physical and mental) and so much more. Eventually, it faded and eventually I got off the cushion and went about life -- but with a permanently changed mindset. Bells, whistles and dramatics aside, it was a momentous experience with huge consequences to my practice and progress along the path.

Old habit patterns surfaced in my mind for a few days, but they were quickly recognized and immediately refuted, then simply disappeared. For a long time I hesitated anytime I had a thought to buy something. Is this necessary? Is it something I want or something I need? No rationalizations about 'need' allowed, either. Soon, it simply became a new MO for me. I've learned to make do with less, use what I have, and be content with all of it. In fact, I've reached a point where I don't want 90% of the 'stuff' I own and would happily be rid of it if I could find a way to live that didn't require furniture and other 'necessities' of life. A cave in the Himalayas has great appeal.

Many other changes followed this experience, but the main event was recognizing a greed that was such a huge part of my life that I could not see it as greed. It had simply always been there.

I've seen other, smaller sources and types of greed since this experience, but basically I felt that I was 'through' with greed and suffering (although I admit to a craving for chocolate and other sweets that sometimes gets the better of me). How wrong I was!

For awhile now I've been once more gathering scraps of data, flashes, small insights, whatever you want to call them in the back of my mind. I'm seeing other ways that 'wanting more' manifests it's ugly head in insidious ways (and again, has done so for my entire life). I wrote about dissatisfaction awhile back in Just say 'yes". I expect this will all come to a head one of these days when they coalesce enough to drive me to the cushion to examine them.

So far, I've successfully avoided that, but I know from experience that eventually the need will become strong enough that it can't be avoided.  When it does, I'll let you know.

Back to square one

When I began this journey a few months back I wanted -- needed -- to be open to the process. Some doors would open, others would close, and the key was to accept whatever happened -- whether internal or external.

From mid-April until about a week ago, I was busily running hither and yon from one Buddhist location to another. As written previously, after the two extraordinary retreats in April I was left with a sense that everything inside had exploded and needed to resettle into some new pattern. Because of previous commitments in May and June, I never really had a chance to let that fully happen. The two scheduled monastery visits only compounded the confusion. I haven't written about either of these because nothing seemed willing or able to settle into anything coherent enough to write.  And truthfully, it still hasn't. Whether or not this post will be coherent remains to be seen, but I finally feel able to begin.

The Austin monastery was, as expected, extraordinary, even in the midst of construction noise and chaos. In a brief conversation with the contractor, he referred to it as a 'five-star monastery', and I have to agree. It's beautiful, and it's luxurious. My kuti was made of stone, with lots of windows, a walk-in closet with built-in drawers, a full bath with double shower, a big corner desk/shelving combo, a small refrigerator, a hot-water dispenser, plus electricity, wireless internet and heat/AC. None that I've ever had or seen elsewhere had any of these features, other than heat. The pagoda and meditation room are exquisite. Life could be good here and the door is open to me to return and stay if I wish. For reasons I haven't fully explored, I have a good bit of hesitancy and resistance to doing that.

Bhavana was as wonderful as always -- perhaps more so because I was there between retreats, as a visitor, and could envision and experience the life of a resident (and of course, that was the point). From past visits, and from speaking with a couple of people I know who have been long-term residents there in the past, I had doubts in the back of my mind going in that I would be physically able to handle the amount/kind of work required without exhaustion. One of these past residents told me 'the residents do all the work there', another told me 'after a day of work I was so tired I couldn't meditate in the evening'. So I was prepared for this -- and in that respect, not disappointed. Being me, I didn't really want to accept this -- thought that with time my body would adjust. On my last day I had a long talk with Bhante G and he said that we must always face reality in these things, and the reality is that they need 'strong, young bodies', particularly in the winter. He was open to me being a resident in the summer, but even then, my experience is that the work is tiring. So, while that door is not totally closed for me, it certainly is closed for any long-term residency. And I'm OK with that.

I found that I experienced similar reactions upon return from each visit -- fatigue (and I think, some deep inner disappointment/discouragement that I haven't fully explored) that was all-encompassing. In each case, I slept seemingly around the clock for a week or more, then emerged into whatever passes for normal.  Today is the first day of that emergence from the Bhavana visit.The good news in this is that even through the fatigue and laziness of these two experiences, my inner work continued (whether I wanted it to or not), and my long-established habit of inner awareness caught all the nuances of what was popping up in my mind. I've seen hints of things I don't necessarily want to -- but of course need to -- explore more deeply. Such explorations take more energy than I have yet, but eventually I will be driven to actually sit on my cushion and take a hard look. When my mind is ready for that, it'll happen.

The one thing I have learned is that my fantasy of being homeless, driving hither and yon across country, down into Mexico and back up here to spend time in various monasteries, is just not reality for me because I simply don't have the energy for it. I can drive long days (12 hours coming home from Bhavana), but even shorter days with overnight stops are tiring. I can't begin to envision doing this intentionally day after day, year-round. Even if there are periods of 6-months between trips. As Bhante G said, we must face reality in these things, and the reality for me is that my body is simply too old for such things. Not everyone at 70 is this 'old', and not everyone at 70 is this 'young', but this is clearly something I cannot do.

So -- back to square one. What do I do? Two monasteries are open to me, but I'm as yet not comfortable with long-term residency at either. There are compelling reasons to not stay where I am (as well as compelling reasons to do just that).

What I've decided for now is to just sit tight until all this settles down before making any decisions. I'm still open to any doors that open to me, but fortunately there's no need to rush into anything.

Cosmic explosions of the mind

Springtime at Southern Dharma, a few days ago

This is one of those times where I literally don't know where to begin. There is so much I want to say, but where to begin? It doesn't help that my mind is still reeling a bit from having attended two intense retreats with a week-long break between the two. In all honesty, I can't say that I had fully assimilated the first one before it was time to turn around and drive back to Southern Dharma. And I certainly haven't assimilated either at this point -- only a  couple of days after leaving Southern Dharma the second time. When the mind is so fully affected, it feels as if it's almost had a little cosmic explosion and the pieces are settling down again in a different pattern. I'm sure a neurologist could explain it, but that little description is the best I can do.

I can, however, say one thing with full certainty: I am even more fully drawn to living in a monastic setting where I can meditate and learn. The only question now is, which one?  And that answer will need to wait for a couple of months, until I've visited the two remaining locations, and explored options at each.

Ayya Sobhana on the land at Aranya Bodhi

I also know with the deepest part of my heart that I am truly blessed to know these two extraordinary women, to have them as teachers and even as friends.  The two couldn't be more different -- Ayya Sobhana is as American as the proverbial apple pie, outgoing and no-nonsense but kind and patient and certainly well-trained by Bhante Gunaratana at the Bhavana Society. She is filled with wisdom, an excellent teacher with a wonderful sense of humor. Sayalay Susila, on the other hand, is Asian through-and-through. More reserved, quieter, very much an inner person whose years of deep meditation in a Burmese forest monastery under the training of Pa Auk Sayadaw are reflected in her wisdom, her demeanor and bearing. Her knowledge of the Abhidhamma and higher absorptions seems limitless. She is a truly gifted teacher.

Sayalay Susila at Bhavana, August 2011

Between these two retreats and teachers, many of the questions I've posed in previous posts here have been answered. That's no doubt why my mind feels slightly discombobulated. It really has been tossed around and reassembled.

When I mentioned my realization of dissatisfaction and that I had begun accepting and being content with whatever happens (saying 'yes') to Sister Susila, she said that was falling away of ego -- something very much to be desired in Buddhism. It certainly continues to feel good. Much of the time we spent together was spent in catching up, more than discussing the current retreat, which was fine. I really didn't have any questions -- I just needed the time and perhaps her presence to let the mind settle down and attain concentration, which it did. I just wanted to talk to her, ask questions unrelated to the retreat. There was not enough time, of course, but hours and days would not have been enough time. I am overjoyed with the amount of time I did have, and overjoyed that I am able to continue to work with her, help her with transcriptions and editing, and am able to ask her a question anytime there is something I feel is important enough to bother her. She will always answer, although I rarely ask.

From a practice standpoint, I gained deeply from both retreats. However, there were more 'breakthroughs' at the one taught by Ayya Sobhana, the subject of which was handling emotions the Buddha's way. Through her teaching I finally, finally found that spot deep inside where the lack of love and caring for myself dwelt, and the door opened, the answer revealed with a big rush of love and acceptance.  On another evening in deep concentration of an unusual sort my entire body 'disappeared'. I've had several occasions over the past 2 or more years where the inside of the body changed into something entirely different. The first time it was masses of tiny bubbles, moving around and popping. The next two times were last fall at Goenka, with different manifestations. In all three of these cases, I still 'saw' the shape of the body, the form, the skin. Only the inside disappeared. On this recent occasion, however, it all disappeared. Kind of faded away bit by random bit until nothing was left. This sounds strange if you  haven't experienced it, but as Sister Susila has said, the concentrated mind does some very strange things and these experiences are not unusual for those who practice concentration. She wanted to know exactly what I was practicing when that happened, because it was truly relevant.

The third big event to happen at Ayya Sobhana's retreat was the arising of compassion. All at once, in a huge rush, at the moment she told us about the bombing in Boston. I recognized it in the moment for what it was, knowing fully that it was more profound than mere reaction to the news. It has lasted, and grown, and is clearly a double-edged sword. When I saw others at the last retreat through the eyes of compassion, at times I could feel their suffering, and feel it deeply. That really changed how I regarded these people, and made me wonder if I could even handle feeling that much suffering, if I even wanted to feel the suffering of others so deeply. I don't think I have much choice in that matter, so it simply has to be accepted.

Two different teachers. Two different retreat subjects. Mind-boggling results for me in both cases.

Just say 'Yes'

I had an interesting -- and not generally pleasant -- year last year, from a Dhamma practice standpoint. I think these downturns are normal enough and even to be expected, especially when we run up against something we don't want to see.  I ran into that 'something' during the year-end retreat at Bhavana in December of 2011, and lived in a bit of turmoil until just recently. Things are beginning to come together again now, thankfully.

It's so hard to pinpoint exactly when something happens that sends the mind off in some irrevocable direction, but I think last year it happened to me at Aranya Bodhi when another lay resident came in a couple of days after my arrival. Her name was Geri, and she made a real impression on me. She'd quit her job, left her life, at the beginning of the year after some spiritual experience the previous summer. She had 'gone forth' much as monastics do, but without actually becoming a monastic. She was following her own path aimed at helping short-term at various meditation centers or monastic sites. (Sound familiar?) Last I heard, she was traveling with a Buddhist nun to perhaps Nepal. Not surprisingly, her influence was strong when I began thinking of also 'going forth' in my own manner. But what I think made the biggest difference in me was that she said she wanted to spend a year or two or however long just saying yes to everything. Yes to helping however she could. Yes to everything she encountered along the way. Even then, I wondered how that would feel, and her words were never far from my thoughts then or over the ensuing months.

Fast forward a few months and after thinking about Geri's words and much more, I began to realize just how often I said no in my life. How dissatisfied I was with everything I encountered along my way. I don't think I've always been that way -- or, at least not as completely so -- but I've certainly done my share of whining and complaining about things I didn't like in life, from time to time. During the past year or so that's been particularly the case, I found, and particularly (though far from exclusively) at meditation retreats. I didn't like the room, or the roommate. It was too hot, or too cold. Too many stairs to climb. I didn't like the bathroom arrangements. Or the food. Or whatever. And I didn't like much around here either, for that matter.

So, I sat with that realization for awhile, ugly as it was and as much as I didn't like facing the truth, then decided that I, like Geri, would start saying yes to everything. Every tiny little thing that came up in daily life. At first, old habit patterns continued to arise, but I was on the lookout for them and quickly turned dissatisfaction (no) to satisfaction (yes). Soon, the new patterns were firmly in place and now it's become automatic. And I can't tell you how much happier I am in general as a result.

The real test came last week, with the driving, the retreat center, the retreat itself. All of these are things that in the past would have bristled with opportunities for dissatisfaction, but with the new change in attitude, those same opportunities consciously became opportunities for satisfaction. I saw it daily, multiple times daily, and was always glad to see the yes reaction come up, each and every time. It was a form of acceptance for whatever was happening in that moment.

I'm not a Buddhist scholar, certainly, but it seems to me that dissatisfaction is a subtle form of greed -- wanting something to be different from what it is. Every time I think I've conquered greed, I find a new and different nuance, such as this dissatisfaction. I'm pretty sure this particular one is cured -- I like saying yes, and it makes the lives of people I encounter much better, too.

I have a feeling that this new acceptance has blossomed in 'woo-woo' (karmic) spiritual ways, too. When I returned, I found that doors have opened -- in Austin for May, at Bhavana for June, and at of course always (and with much gratitude) at Aranya Bodhi anytime I wish to join them. For now, that's enough. I'll go through the first two doors, then see what happens next. The pull to Aranya Bodhi is stronger than ever, but....only time will tell. As Ayya Sobhana so wisely counseled, I need to decide where I can best learn and grow in the Dhamma, and that may not necessarily be the fanciest, or the one with the most famous teacher. But that's all for the future. For now, I'm getting ready to return to Southern Dharma in a couple of days for a retreat with Sayalay Susila.  And very much looking forward to seeing her again.

The Other 1%: Make a Difference

Lotus window at Southern Dharma

Although the retreat at Southern Dharma from which I just returned was likely the best and most personally productive I've ever attended, and while I made many great personal gains in insight and clarity during those 5 days, that's all been somewhat overshadowed by the turbulent issues and events of the past week.

Ayya Sobhana's wisdom is far-reaching, beyond Buddhism and yet connected in that Buddhism teaches peace, non-anger, non-killing and similar moral values that are an integral part of the practice. During her Dhamma talk one evening -- I think this was the night before she broke the news to us about the bombs in Boston, but after she knew it had happened -- she talked about many things including some studies that indicate what percentage of any size group is enough to effect a change in the entire group. That she is able to rattle off these studies and statistics from the top of her head amazed all of us, and she did so seemingly every day.

I can't begin to quote the statistics, or who did the study, or anything else, but what did stick in my head was that a mere 1% of people who inhabit this planet is enough to make a change. Enough to sway away from anger and towards peace. Enough to stop the proliferation of war and violence. Enough to save the planet from environmental destruction, from disease destruction, from war destruction. Only one percent!

Are you part of that one percent? I like to think I am -- all Buddhists are, because all Buddhists practice peace, compassion, non-violence, non-greed, care for the earth and the beings (all living beings, not just humans) who inhabit it. Individually, we are just one voice. Together, we can make up that one percent and maybe grow it beyond one percent.

I'm not talking only to and about Buddhists here. I am well aware that there are many caring, peace-loving, non-violent people in this world who are not Buddhists. I know many personally. This is not a faith-based issue, or a red/blue state political issue. It's not only an American issue. It's a human issue. An earth issue. What kind of world do you want your kids or grandkids to inherit? Are you willing to sit by and watch anger, aggression and fear from far corners of the earth (including right here in Washington DC) lead to nuclear annihilation? Is that what you want for your kids and grandkids? It has to stop. And people who work from a place of love, rather than a place of fear and hate, will be the ones to stop it. Hatred and anger will never work. Hatred engenders more hatred. Love and acceptance engenders more love and acceptance.

Practice peace. Practice non-violence. Step away from greed. Make taking care of our earth's ecosystem part of your life. Give it some importance. Support groups who do all these things. It doesn't take much time or money -- it just takes an intention to make a difference. Practice compassion, as in these words Ayya Sobhana used to lead us in meditation after telling us about Boston. I've shortened it a bit to merely include all beings in one paragraph. She led us in far more detail, but this is really all you need to know. Are you willing to be part of this one percent?

May all beings be freed from anger

May all beings be freed from hatred

May all beings be freed from fear

May all beings take care of themselves, happily

or, another chant she taught us and used daily at lunch:

May the suffering be free from suffering

May the fear-struck be fear from fear

May the grieving be free from grief,

So too may all beings be.

Supporting our bhikkhunis

In Asian countries where Buddhism has existed as an integral part of culture and religion for centuries, a symbiotic relationship exists between lay people and monastics, and it's a system that benefits both. Monastics live under strict rules of renunciation -- not allowed to have or spend money, or accumulate or buy food, for example. Monastics in Asia rely upon lay people for their daily food and the people -- even the poorest of them -- are happy to share what food they have with the monastics. Similarly, other necessities of life are subject to donation from lay people, and the lay people are happy to share.

Buddhism is relatively new in this country, brought to the forefront primarily by a number of western young people who went to Asia to study Buddhism with great masters, in various countries. After years of study, these westerners returned to the USA, established for-profit meditation centers, wrote best-selling books and generally introduced Theravadan Buddhism to the masses. There's nothing wrong with any of that -- I'm personally grateful that they did so because this is how I was first introduced to the practice that changed my life. Without them, I would no doubt still be floundering in despair.

I began to gravitate to pure monastic training and life quite some years ago -- at first this was probably because I could never afford to go to the for-profit centers, but now I prefer monastics for the purity of the teachings. Burmese, Sri Lankan, and some Thai monastics teach the purist form of the Buddha's words. Monasteries, in the ancient tradition of the Buddha, do not charge for teaching the words of the Buddha. As they've done for centuries, they rely upon dana, or generosity, for support. Most monasteries in this country, from what I can see, are part of some large Asian community that understands the symbiotic relationship, knows that without the help of the lay community the monasteries could not exist. The Bhavana Society in West Virginia, for example, was established over 30 years ago through the dana of a large Sri Lankan community in the Washington, DC and Baltimore areas. It's one of the oldest teaching monasteries in this country, and while students who attend retreats offer dana and support, I expect that it's still the Sri Lankan community that provides the largest ongoing support.

In recent years, other such places have been or are in the process of being established around the country.  Some that I'm aware of are located near and supported by specific Asian communities. There are certainly others whose support resources I know nothing about.

Establishing a monastic center staffed with western monastics and supported largely by western lay people is dicey, because we have not grown up with that symbiotic relationship -- the deep knowledge that without our ongoing support, the monastic community cannot exist. The nuns at Aranya Bodhi in California stay uppermost in my mind in this regard. They were blessed with many donations initially, but it was as if in the western mind one donation was enough. There are some who donate regularly, others who donate sporadically, but the need for support is ongoing, each and every month. Because they are developing a new location with new facilities, deep in the redwoods, expenses are greater than basic maintenance. You can read more about them and my visit with them last summer here.

The purpose of this post is to urge any of you who have benefited from Buddhist teachings to consider offering dana to these nuns -- or to any needy monastic community. Even if you haven't had Buddhist teachings and can afford to give money to good purposes, or simply want a tax write-off, I hope you'll consider donating. A regular monthly donation in whatever amount you can afford is best for their purposes -- but one-time donations are equally welcome. I want to see these nuns succeed in their goal, which is to provide a place for Theravadan Buddhist nuns to dwell, be ordained and teach, and for lay women to dwell and serve and learn. The abbess and prioress both have many years of excellent practice behind them, both are wise and gifted teachers with much to impart to the rest of  us. If you can help, please visit the Dhammadharini donations page and choose whatever method you prefer. I personally prefer not to use Network for Good because of the rather steep fees they charge. Other avenues ensure that every cent you donate goes directly to the Hermitage.

There's an extra, added benefit to such dana, too.  I know from personal experience that when you give to others from your heart, you also feel better. Everybody benefits.

May you have all good blessings for your generosity.

Letting go

The process of letting go is so difficult for most of us -- and yet so very necessary if we want to move forward. I'm often reminded of the Buddha's words on this.

Let go of the past, let go of the future, let go of the present, and cross over to the farther shore of existence.
With mind wholly liberated,
you shall come no more to birth and death.

Dhammapada 24.348

Simple words, but like so many of the Buddha's simple words, far from easy to do -- yet completely possible to do. The Buddha also said somewhere that he would never ask us to do what is not possible, to do what he himself had not done. The degree of difficulty in these things, I believe, has to do with one's own individual life circumstance -- karma, if you will.

Over the years I've let go of countless things -- mostly thoughts and perceptions and ideas that left me mired in mud, unable to move forward, and countless long-held emotions and sorrows and resentments. I do have a tendency to obsess over things from time to time -- perhaps regrets over past actions, or replaying/rewriting past conversations, for example. I give equal obsession time to future plans and conversations and worrying about whatever's going on in the present. Oddly enough, it seems that these are the things that most people think about when they're sitting in meditation and can't concentrate their minds. Somehow I found that fact to be comforting when I first heard it, years ago. It's always good to know that I'm not alone in my craziness.

Despite all the past practice, I keep needing to be reminded that letting go -- regardless of the situation -- is best and easiest in the long run. What we're letting go of, of course, is attachment to a person, place, thing, idea, emotions and feelings and so on. It's the attachment, the craving and desire for that person, place, thing, idea, emotion or feeling that makes letting go difficult and keeps us in the round of suffering.

I make good use of letting go daily in small situations, but lately, I've had good opportunity to put it into practice in more major situations once again. When I first let go of the fear of 'going forward' into intentional homelessness, I had a couple of specific ideas about where I'd go and what I'd do -- for me, that was necessary in order to feel a level of comfort with the process. Without realizing it, I became attached to those ideas, despite wanting to be free with the process -- to 'go with the flow', so to speak.

Last week, I found myself all wrapped up in fear about this. Full of what if's. What if the monastery in Austin doesn't invite me to visit at all, and even if they invite me to visit, what if they don't invite me to spend time as a resident there? Oh dear, oh dear. What will I do then? I can't live in Mexico year-round! What if I end up not being accepted at any monastery as a resident? What if none of them wants me? You get the picture. A whole roiling wave of 'what ifs' that stayed with me for a few days.

Fortunately, through meditation I realized that I needed to simply let go of trying to control what the monasteries will or will not do. I also opted to look more closely at monasteries other than the one in Austin, and that flowed into simply letting go completely.  Instead of worrying and trying to control the situation, I'll wait and see what doors open -- and close -- first, and go from there. That left me in a good state of peace about the process once again.

The letting go of material things is a different process, yet related. I lost all difficulty with that about two years ago during a deep meditative experience which I'll write about someday. At that point, I stopped buying things that weren't necessary -- dropped the 'I wants' forever. More recently, I've begun the process of decluttering my house as I prepare to move on to a new life. Most books are gone (or waiting to be sent to friends). Bags of paper from files have gone to recycling, five boxes of general 'stuff' has gone to Goodwill. More has simply gone into the trash. Some things -- particularly some books -- were harder to let go of than others, but with every bag and box and book that's left the house, I've felt more and more free. It's a wonderful feeling and I look forward to letting go of more and more 'stuff'. Emotional stuff as well as material stuff.

And who knows -- maybe none of the monasteries will invite me to become a resident. In that case, I'll look to other options, other possibilities. Six months in Baja would be a good start. In the meantime, I'll rest in comfort with the knowledge that at least I have a confirmed visit to Austin in May. After that -- well, I'll worry about that then.