I’ve been thinking about disillusionment recently.
This past week happened to mark the passage of ten years since my husband, son and I made our bold move across the Atlantic from London to New York.
All in Buddhism
Of Prayers, Flowers and Films
We’re back by our neighbourhood fountain again and the sky is cool and comfortingly grey. The dog’s quietly happy to be beside us and my daughter’s busy with some exercises and her scooter.
Solid Rock
As I sit in my chair and gaze outwards, night gradually spreads her primordial fingers across the sky. There are noises outside; tonight the neighbourhood crows have arrived, en masse it would seem.
Solitude
I love the word solitude. It’s pure Latin of course, as many of the best English words are. A good Latin dictionary will give you a thought provoking array of possibilities to translate the noun solitudo-solitudinis (third declension feminine) ‘a being alone, loneliness, solitariness, solitude, lonely place, desert, wilderness, desolation, want, destitution, deprivation, orphanage, bereavement.’
Clear Notice
We all noticed it. My daughter stepped outside the apartment door this morning and ran straight back inside asking for her school cardigan. As I sat in the interlude between one school pick up and the next later in the day, I felt the bite of the air for the first time and was suddenly cold in my summery top. Even in California winter approaches it seems, perhaps with more stealth than elsewhere but with no less intent.
The Narrow Way
It was a weekend full of sunshine. On Saturday morning I made the glorious drive up to Malibu along Pacific Coast Highway to meet my son while my husband competed in his first triathlon at Zuma Beach. The surfers were out in force, bobbing up and down in their black wetsuits on their boards atop the rolling waves. For a moment or two, as the sun struck the water with glistening silvery force, you could almost believe you were voyaging through paradise.
A French Holiday: Part I
We were driving along a French country lane in the early evening yesterday. The dappled sunlight filtered through the canopy of greenery overhead forming magical flickering patterns in the air. I was put in mind of the fairy sprites in a Midsummer Night’s Dream and their mischievous activity which results in so much hilarious chaos.
Going Back
With the evening sun warm in the sky, the children and I drove northwards along my favorite stretch of freeway yesterday. We were in the shimmering company of the spirits of time past. Summoned by our choice of music, from a period when my husband and I were younger creatures, I could see their vague traces; two youthful figures seated together on a warm evening in an Oxford pub while the music flowed all around them.
Musings from the Land of Sunshine
It’s a comfortingly domestic evening. My son sits practising piano chords while my daughter bustles around wearing fairy wings and the dog lies gazing soulfully into the near distance. I sit with my mind training text on my lap, musing happily on the weekend just past. It occurs to me that memories of my young family will consist of many moments such as these; when we were together and the world of childhood was all around me.
When Magic Came to Town
It rained in Los Angeles this past week. The city finds it impossible to behave as usual in the wet weather. Everything is suddenly difficult- and this place is not built for hardship. Water is everywhere as the rainfall has nowhere to go and venturing outside of one’s dwelling place suddenly becomes an expedition into the wilderness.
A Weekend to Remember
I flew home from a few days in Mexico City this evening. I travelled in solitude and enjoyed the unfamiliar space which that created. Traveling without children is always a surprisingly different experience; there is no one else to look after and thus one gains so much extra time to think and reflect.
Summer Retreat
Today was the first day of the Buddhist summer course which we attend every year. Held at Sakya Changlochen Ling, a retreat centre situated amidst the rural beauty of the Dordogne, it’s a two week period that is one of the highlights of my annual calendar.