Life wanders among the potholes presented to us each day, seldom weaving the exact course set for it; looking for adventure, security, fun, or whatever label we’ve placed on a goal post somewhere in our future.
Along the way, events happen to bring us up short, in time to take stock in where we’ve been and where we’re headed. This week so far has been one for taking stock. Some events are universal in impact.
Take yesterday, for example. Sister and I took the drive down to Arlee, MT, to visit one of our favorite places. We hadn’t been there yet this year. It’s an hour and a half drive, and when we go, we plan lunch out and a few stops along the way for photos.
We went to Ewam, better known as The Garden of One Thousand Buddahs. I’ve written about Ewam before—about its quality of peace and tranquility. We’ve been there during high summer and bright sunshine, Gloomy Spring and drizzle, and late fall when all of the flowers have gone by. The grass and flowers may change with the season, but the feel of the place never does.
Calmness descends upon the spirit as one approaches the circle of The Mother. By the time the visitor stands before the pavilion, thoughts from the outside world have drained away, leaving only feelings of content and tranquility. It is a magical place.
We hadn’t gone for teaching, though such is provided there for those who wish to remain and learn the lessons offered and path extended to students. We had gone to reconnect with what we’d already found there. We’d gone to take in peace, to settle rumblings within, and to leave with spirits renewed.
When we returned home, our FB pages, news feeds, and private messages spoke of the horrors in Oklahoma. This news was important to us. We have so many friends and relations there. The scramble was on to see if all were safe.
Until bedtime, news feeds were monitored, messages were zipped from place to place, and talk centered on a death toll. Throughout the evening we clung to the calmness and tranquility given us earlier in the day. Nothing we could do at that time would affect what was happening in our old home area. Prayers had to suffice then, as they do now.
We each took stock in our own ways. I looked back at where we’d lived and how close that area had come. I remembered those in the storm’s direct path. And I took stock in the ways we were connected there.
I thought of my life now and that I had begun this path while living there. My plans took root in the Oklahoma soil. My life had become tangled in those of so many others. I’m left with prayers for those in need. I was blessed to have been an Okie for a little while.
Until another week passes, a bientot,
Claudsy
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