July 23, 2002

yellowstone

My step-mom’s family reunion was this past weekend where the festivities were at the East Entrance to Yellowstone Nation Park. My aunt and uncle live there, where my uncle is the Sub-district ranger. It was a mildly short, but sweet stay. While we were there four of us climbed to the highest elevation I’ve been to outside of an airplane. It was a great time and being in an environment like that taught me a few things. I thought about the Dharma often being around (and on) these amazing mountains at the altitude of some of the flatlands of Tibet. What I came away feeling most though was that I need to be around a good teacher to really excel at Buddhism. One of my other uncles is currently a ranger at Sequoia National Park, but will be transferring to Mammoth in Yellowstone around August. When we arrived my uncle was giving my aunt a lesson on fileting fish. Fish recently caught in Yellowstone River. Sunday morning we made sour dough pancakes. The original receipt of which was made famous by my grandpa’s Sunday morning tradition of serving. The flour was measured “exactly like dad used to do. Remember that…” Both of these “arts” were perfected by a great teacher, who was also a Park ranger in Yellowstone and Glacier — among others.

We talked about the way he marked the trails in Glacier like they were in Yellowstone. “They take a piece of metal and nail it to the tree, then bend it back,” my step-mom told me. “That way they can carry them in their backpack. The only real use for them is in the winter when you can’t see the trail.” They don’t mark trails like this in Glacier, so if you are there and happen upon a trail that is marked in such a way, then you’ve come across a trail Bob Morey has marked.

My book sat at home, in the bag. Never touched. “You must find a teacher, one who kicks spiritual butt. And go, study with them.”

posted @ 10:19 AM

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