Of Prayers, Flowers and Films
We’re back by our neighbourhood fountain again under a sky both cool and comfortingly grey. The dog’s quietly happy to be beside us and my daughter’s busy with some exercises and her scooter. There’s traffic on the streets, more everyday and it seems like we are gradually clawing our way back to normality.
We spent a weekend peppered with episodes of life as usual. On Friday evening my husband and I took the children to dinner at our favourite local spot. Operating at fifty percent capacity the tables were full, the staff were welcoming and conviviality danced through the air once more. We sat on the terrace with the lights and flowers; Duke enjoying his customary under the table seat as we moved through the wonderful ritual of eating a meal out in the presence of others for the first time since this strange interlude swept most of humanity’s shared customs away.
With houses of worship open here now, albeit at reduced capacity, we went to our customary Sunday morning prayers and study group at Sakya Buddhist Center. After months of zoom it’s hard to describe how happy I was to be there. Sometimes it seems that in our recent precipitous slide into online activity we have lost sight of technology’s limitations. Although it can provide wonderful ways for those geographically distant to participate, it simply cannot engender the strength of spiritual activity which arises when we are together in person.
My daughter and I visited a friend’s beautiful garden for the early part of the afternoon. As we sat amidst the riot of colours and profusion of blooms in this space which always reminds me of European summers, I took a deep breath and smiled. My daughter and my friend walked around heads bent in conversation as they examined the flowers and I slipped briefly into a dream of the moment that we take to the skies in the plane that will carry us home.
Later that evening we gathered for a family viewing of an old favourite, Four Weddings and a Funeral. We laughed and cried as we always do but this time, by some coincidence, we all noticed how happily empty people’s hands were for the entirety of the film. Of course, it was made in that innocent time before the smartphone took hold of our hands. Strange indeed how an invention which delivers everything that we desire can, at the same time, steal our peace of mind.
