Have been dealing with a lot of annoying smallish health concerns. The nice part of all that sort of thing is it keeps to the fore the primacy of being aware of self relating to self. Of self letting go, incrementally, of the self and then letting the vigil lapse and having to let go all over again. Only, the next time it’s different. The subtle teaching of repetitive awareness intertwined with persistent fog horns coming from, somewhere.

Life is good. Next month I spend a couple of weeks living at temple again while our monk is traveling. I plan to fashion it into a retreat in preparation for a jaunt up to the inland Northwest. To visit Dharma friends and renew deep-heart acquaintance with neighbors and fellow travelers  and possibly lay groundwork for future return to the area.

Here’s a view that came up for me a few weeks weeks ago:

It is a simple wooden gate tethered to

Two fence posts that anchor a plain

Split-rail fence that runs to the left and the

Right of me; as far as I can see. To the very

Curvature of the Earth, and then I see the 

Meadow I’m standing in, also stretches to

The horizon, although in every direction. And,

I wonder, for a moment; why the fence? Why the

Gate? Then I shrug and step through. The meadow

Rolls on and on under my feet. Who built the gate? The fence?

Is the purpose simply for the stepping through?

What’s good for me to Know? What’s good for me to Do?