We ship out on Saturday.
My flight is paid for. My visa’s been filed. The generous people filling in for me have the lowdown on what to do. The wedding cake I promised to make is ready to go.
What’s left to do? Laundry, for one thing. Sandwiches and granola bars for the road trip to Paris. Also packing and groceries and finishing organizing the house for the Rinpoche who will arrive, um, ostensibly before I do.
Also things that are a little less logistical and somehow a little more essential. I haven’t really been sleeping lately. I’m trying so hard to accomplish so many things that it’s easier not to sleep. I think I’ve also been trying to pretend that I’ve finished mourning and this trip is just about hommage and offering and connecting. It is about that–that’s at the heart of this journey. But it’s not whole story. Heartbreak and loss are still with me. Lately I’ve developed a resistance to them. I want to be done with emotions, with running into the same sadnesses that have yet to lose their futility, the same questions whose answers remain uncertain.
I’m not alone, but I feel alone. I am loved and surrounded by good and giving people. Yet inside, there is an aloneness that comes from knowing that only I can sort out the aching and confusion that are inherent in this life. Even a Buddha can’t make you enlightened. He shows the way, but it’s up to us to walk the path. As some great master in a text I can’t remember the name of wisely pointed out: The light of the Buddha’s wisdom is like the sun; it reflects off every body of water without exception. But um, there’s only so much the sun can do for a pond covered in leaves.
Which is a hard truth, and I’m living it lately. I think the best thing to do is be alone–physically, if I can find a moment or two–and use the quiet to flick off a couple leaves so I can feel the Buddha’s light.
I want to come back to you, from the road, on the road, with an open heart and a brimming ink well. I want to be the best witness I can be, a clear pond to reflect this moment back in all its grandeur and integrity. The purpose of this project, the intensity and consistency with which I’ve been writing leading up to this trip and the work I mean to do while I’m on the road, is about assembly and transmission. About allowing people to come together to take part in and benefit from this momentous occasion. For me it’s a form of offering, a way to receive all of your generous offerings of financial and moral support, and a way to connect us all to the vision and activity of a truly great being to benefit…well, everyone.
It seems worth it to take a couple days to reflect on the matter before diving in. Thanks for coming along; see you on the other side.
**This post is part of a larger project culminating in a week of creative journalism in Kathmandu Valley, Nepal chronicling the cremation (possibly from afar) of the Tibetan spiritual master Shamar Rinpoche. To find out more or make a donation to this project, go here.