I am
expecting a black bear… Maybe a sow bear and her cub. Because right under my tree,
where I sit in the mornings, I saw a strange deposition full of berry seeds,
and too big to be from a racoon. So I guess a bear has wandered near my tree,
intrigued by a new smell, and had the urge to leave his/her mark next to where
I lay my yoga towel and cushion. Since the following day, I have been absent,
travelling to the big city to see other things, far from this quiet world, but
also valuable, as we met some interesting people: “Anthony the Nose” in Little
Italy, who tirelessly encourages people to sit at his restaurant; Samuel from
Ghana, who’s been here for 17 years, and will now be vacationing to see his
97-year-old-mother back home in Africa, who has never been to a doctor in all her
life; Neil, a security guard at Madison Square Garden, who has my address for a visit to Spain; the French chocolate woman under the Plaza Hotel, who loves Spain; the Israeli taxi driver who loves soccer, and who said we should buy NY
State lottery tickets, and if we won, “he would find us”; and the Bangladeshi
cab driver who asked us why we knew “Namaste” as a greeting…
Meanwhile, I am back in the mountains, and it
has rained, only an inch, but at least that’s something. And if it rains in the
morning, my solution is to use the hayshed, where I lay out my towels and
cushions and at least I can do my practices in the dry, albeit with a veritable
concert on the tin roof. It sounded as if all the heavens were falling, but
actually it was just a gentle rain. That’s how tin and wooden rafters amplify
sound, like our head-brains amplifying all the noise of our minds until we can
find inner peace and stillness. And one afternoon I sat on my log and took this
picture of the sunlight through the trees… wishing I could close my eyes and
see the light in the mind as well.
This morning I also used the hayshed for fear
of rain and had a little visit. There was a scratching sound and something
flitted around the window. Then a head popped in at the top of the wooden
doors, where there’s a gap. He just looked at me. I could only see the head, so
I thought it was a rat in the dim light of morning. I decided he wasn’t invited
to the session or for an inspection of the feed bags or alfalfa pellets, so I
shooed him away. A few minutes later, there was more scratching and he came in
under the tin roof and sat on a ledge up near the rafters. Then I saw it was a
chipmunk. He sat there and did his so-called “warning chirps”. I thought he was
talking to me. Maybe he was asking for permission to come in and take a look
around, but I couldn’t understand him. Pennsylvania chipmunks have probably never
seen a meditating man in a hayshed at 6:45 in the morning. So that was quite a surprise
for him. Maybe he’ll be back another morning, who can say. Meanwhile, we have
yet to see the bear, the possum and the porcupine who stuck those quills into
the muzzles of the guard dogs… The deer and the wild turkeys and their families
we see almost every day.
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