January 18, 2004

last day of retreat notes

1/15/04
The last full day. Actually it’s one o’clock already, so I’m down to let than 24 hours. Started packing up and making little lists of things that need to be done before I leave.

I think my mind changed. I think it was a good dose of Dharma — a refreshing splash of cold water on the face. I have this feeling that I’ll fall back into similar habbits in a few days. Hopefully not fully back into them, but back none the less. I keep reading about you must generate this strong desire to help other people. I feel like I’ve got just about 0% of that. Maybe .01% because I do like to feed the racoons who show up every night around 8:30... the pets at home, Christina, a few friends. I want them to be happy and am willing to help in some ways, but not fully. Not like where I’d say, “here’s my house — take it, here’s all my clothes — wear them, here’s all my food — eat it.” Not much anyway. A little. I understand the concept of why it’s right to do so, but when push comes to shove it’s really all about the tripple gem of me, myself, and I. [In Buddhism you take refuge in what is called the Tripple Gem — the Buddha, the Dharma, and the Sangha.]

It’s all nice for me to say I’ve made some change as I sit in a nice temperature controlled cabin overlooking these amazing hills completely covered in trees. But did I really? I guess we’ll see tomorrow or the next day when we go to town and have to do all the normal daily life stuff like laundry, shopping, and finding a parking space. I don’t think it was a waste. I haven’t had time off like this in a really long time. Since the last time I was unemployed, so three years ago. Vacations are usually spent going, going, going, so this was nice for that. I reconnected with my teacher, that was also nice.

Being away from Christina... that was... well, at first difficult. Then progressively easier, but I think only because I knew she was right down the hill. Whenever we spend time apart we both start thinking about each other’s death. It’s very strange like that. If she goes on vacation I’ll think, “what if her plane crashes, what if I never see her again.” It would be greatly more difficult if one of us were to die, but this retreat did help the mind get used to that inevitable time. I think she had a harder time with this and she was with Zeeke, our dog, which is interesting. He reflects your own sadness back to you. He appears to be sad — maybe he really is sad — when one of us is gone. So it’s more difficult. I couldn’t imagine what having a child then being seperated by death would do...

posted @ 10:11 AM

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