Our sage is ill, flattened by a virulent flu he picked up on an international flight. 106 people from all over the world have gathered for a week to be with him–from Colorado, North Carolina, Switzerland, Australia.
A week or more, carved out with care–we shoved back or delegated work, engaged house and animal sitters, cleaned out the fridge, put the mail on hold. Invested hard-earned savings. Such an opening for disappointment to flood in.
What is this thing we call disappointment? The mind weaves a story that circumstances should be other than they are: threads of “what ifs” and “whys” and “how comes” and perhaps even an “oh poor me.”
But I’ve heard none of that–no undercurrent of grousing. No grumbling at all. Only wishes for the return of our sage’s well-being. This community is enjoying what has been given: the sweetness of like-hearted souls who find themselves sharing space and time in an unanticipated way. What a lovely marker that the teaching has gained more than a footing, has actually taken root.
Are there preferences? You can count on it. But when we notice druthers and leave them alone, they come and go–naturally, like breath.
© Amrita Skye Blaine, 2015