Mom phoned. I picked up her message around seven p.m. and tried to return her call to no avail. So I called the front desk of the assisted living facility where she has been residing for nearly eight years now and asked them to check on her. They said they would and that they would have her call me back. Mom didn’t phone back.

It’s interesting to watch my mind attempt to make up stories of why mom called. One thought actually made me cringe before I could drop it . . . “Go over and check on her . . . nah, the nurse is checking, she’ll call if anything’s off . . . maybe the staff forgot to check on her and she’s just lying on the floor, alone, in a pool of blood seeping through the floor, dripping on the head of the gentleman in the apartment just below her”. Well, at least that’ll alert them right?

What an outrageous thought and I actually cringed as if this scenario could be true! The good news? That cringe, though it felt nasty, not only alerted me to drop the story, it also flagged other potential stories as not worth giving rise to. It gave some space for me to pay attention to what is actually present and what is merely being dragged off by a fearful scent; mom didn’t answer her phone nor call me back. I made some tea and am drinking it right now and loving my mom. This feels good and that’s the end of the story.

This year, for the first time since 1962, we had snow fall on Christmas day; a teaser for what was yet to come. A few days later the news forecasted up to 36 inches to blanket the Cascades. Knowing how much I enjoy tromping in the snow, my daughter Amy phoned to invite Alistair and I on a snowshoeing trek. Within twelve hours she and her partner Michelle bundled us into their car, shoved lattes and McMuffins into our hands and drove us to our frozen destination. The excitement was palpable. It took real effort on my part to try and maintain some equipoise.

Once we found the trailhead and strapped on our snowshoes we headed into the forested landscape. The climb was steep. I expected we’d catch our breaths and chatter once we rounded the peak’s corner, yet instead of conversation, everything muted; color softened and sound dampened. Even the songs of the birds seemed clipped of unnecessary gaggle. Enveloped in natures calm I felt cooled to the bone.

Alistair and I emerged from our camping/hiking/retreating into the Wallowa Mountains like two gliding geese landing atop a frozen lake. Cloaked in confident demeanors we did our best to gracefully slide through the exciting events ahead.

Ajahn Pasanno traveled to Oregon along with attendant Tan Titabho for a six-day visit. Within this short time frame and with nary a sigh, Ajahn accepted three teaching engagements, a request to preside over a thoroughly organized ‘Hermitage Picnic’ and an invitation to accept ‘Alms on Hawthorne’. Impressively and to the benefit and appreciation of many, he met all of these duties with seemingly ease and lighthearted joy. I say “seemingly” because naturally I don’t really know what goes on for him internally. Still I was struck by his deportment. His manner of expression, whether that be with body or speech seemed consistently poised between integrity and joy.

Michael Stevens and Mimi Maduro’s generous offer to house the monks for this three month Vassa was also the location for the Hermitage Picnic. The events included a bountiful meal, children’s Dhamma program and offering, bubbles, hikes and Dhamma talk and discussion. The weather was warm, windy and all around pleasant. Ending the day with a hike lent an affirming visual to the experiences of this past week, just how lovely the view is when coming from Dhamma.

Portland Friends of the Dhamma taped Ajahn’s Dhamma talks and discussions for anyone interested. As of this writing they are not yet posted so you’ll want to check back in just a few days time. You’ll also find more photo’s of the Alms Round on Hawthorne and Hermitage Picnic.

For some reasons I’ve been stuck lately, having a hard time writing to this blog. Not sure why. Maybe after I return from a ten day camping trip with my husband Alistair I’ll be back up and writing. Don’t know.

We’ll be camping in a ten by fourteen log cabin with a wood stove for cooking on one end and a huge river rock fireplace on the other. The toilet is an outhouse a hundred feet west of the house, the bath is a stream meandering just beyond.

The nearest town is an hours drive by car. We’ve been here before. We hiked nearly every day and only ran into another person once, a person with a cross bow on his back and camoflage on his face. Unfortunately for the deer he looked as determined as he did fit.

If we stick with the routine we’ll have predawn meditations, long, strenuous hikes and icy cold bathes. No cell phones, no computers, no one but the bears, cougars, deers and a whole lot of chattering birds to pull us away from our meditations, from our silence.

I hope it snows.

Will write again in about two weeks time.

Sakula

My grandson Maxwell will soon have my attention in full check, till then I’ll scribble down a very quick update . . .

Four of us were back out in Mosier yesterday. Mimi and I worked on putting order to the cookhouse while the remaining crew of four continued to dig, pound and level. A strong and pleasant breeze made known the benefits of sweat while keeping the bees at a distance.

Having finally finished the platforms, Alistair set up one of the tents. It was fun to add a sense of accomplishment to all the dirty and difficult work so many have put in thus far. When Mimi and I saw the finished tent and platform for the first time we immediatelly indulged in an imaginary design competition for ‘Best’ interior. She won hands down with the addition of small Tibetan throw rugs, which was a pleasure to bow to.

Ajahn Sudanto saw this photo and sent it back to me after he PhotoShopped himself sitting inside. He titled (what I refer to as his masterpiece) “Imagine” and said it was fun to think of himself sitting there for the summer months . . . nice work don’t you agree?