Since the local 17-year cicadas are mostly hidden in the obviously teeming woods around the PTC perimeter, I decided to stop in today at Locust Grove, the Samuel Morse estate on the Hudson River about 15 minutes up Route 9. Not a single cicada to be seen or heard. OK, so maybe it’s named after the trees.
The 17-year cicadas, last seen here in 1996, are not having an easy time of it. After waiting 17 years underground to emerge for their brief, glorious moment in the sunlight and air, they were delayed by a long, cool spring. When they finally started to come out during the two-week Saka Dawa nyungne retreat in May, a blast of cold weather halted them in their tracks. But at last, in the midst of a record-breaking heat wave this week, they are emerging in numbers, and their eerie hum grows louder every day. As of today, we can hear them throughout the monastery grounds.
All sound is the sound of mantra: cicadas June 2, 2013
(High sound volume recommended)
The constant hum of the cicadas reminds me of this meditation instruction from Chamgon Tai Situ Rinpoche:
At Mapleknoll Marsh, the trick to spotting frogs is to eavesdrop a bit at the entry, then make your way in slow motion onto the boardwalk just to where you can survey the water surface. Yesterday morning I spotted nine frogs, though quite a few splashes and shrieks informed me that my presence was detected by many others. I have found that while most frogs dive underwater before I’m even close, others seem impervious to my presence, even if I go out of my way to get their attention. Two tiny videos below: in the first one, a chorus of green frogs (high twang) and bullfrogs (deep rrrrr) from the marsh entrance; in the second, the camera movement is me trying to get some action.
(High volume setting recommended.)
Frogs on logs in Mapleknoll Marsh, first heat wave, May 30, 2013
Unlike the rest of Bowdoin Park, Mapleknoll Marsh, which is tucked into its northeastern corner, seems to be largely–if not entirely–unmaintained. The boardwalk is sound but fraying, and tall reeds encroach upon it and even grow up through the boards. Very few visitors seem to find it, though I did encounter a birdwatcher recently, and on another occasion a young couple shrieking with delight as they teased a frog with a dried reed. (The frog, apparently thinking the movement of the reed indicated food, kept jumping and trying to bite it)
These short videos are from Mapleknoll Marsh, a tiny pond in Bowdoin Park a mere five-minute walk from the end of the PTC driveway along Sheafe Road. The videos were made in late spring during Saka Dawa, the most sacred month of our Buddhist calendar, during which Shakyamuni Buddha is said to have been born, attained enlightenment, and passed into nirvana, many centuries ago. As I write this, we have just passed the full moon of Saka Dawa, the culmination of the month’s magnfication of merit, and we still have two weeks to go before the new moon, when it gives way to the next Tibetan month.
In the videos, redwing blackbirds, a variety of frogs, Sheafe Road traffic, and even, faintly, the bells of Mount Alvernia (our Franciscan Monastery neighbor), along with various unidentified participants, join in the chorus of mani’s celebrating this sacred time.
Redwing, Mount Alvernia (faint)
(High sound volume is recommended.)
People I meet almost invariably remark, sometimes with a hint of wistfulness, how quiet and peaceful it must be to live at a Buddhist monastery. Not at all, I assure them—on the contrary!
This morning Pema Chödrön’s Facebook page shared a quote from her book, No Time to Lose: “The next time you go out in the world, you might try this practice: directing your attention to people—in their cars, on the sidewalk, talking on their cell phones—just wish for them all to be happy and well.“
A discerning reader inquired as to why there was only one aphorism, since the topic merited a tag. So I looked back through the list I kept in retreat and found a few more that might be of use in the world at large. Today’s featured aphorism, which I have thoroughly tested yet often forget:
~The best way to deal with any issue: write a note and tear it up the next day.~
As explained in the introduction, I got permission at the beginning of my three-year Tibetan Buddhist retreat to keep in touch with the New Hampshire sangha by means of a monthly letter that would be posted on their website. When I was in retreat, I didn’t think of it as a “blog.” I just wrote a new “post” every once in a while (once a month for most of Year 1, much more sporadically as retreat progressed), mailed it to Arlo/Orlan, and never saw the result. I added my retreat graduation speech last spring and occasionally thought about continuing….but I wanted to reorganize the whole thing and it just seemed too complicated and amorphous, like a lot of things immediately following three years of one-thing-at-a-time. Plus life is very busy at the monastery!
Over the course of three-year retreat, I compartmentalized some of the things I learned in the form of aphorisms. This is the one I refer to the most often; it seems to apply to many situations and helps me avoid (somewhat) engaging in criticism and arguments. Thanks to Jean Frostick for the expansion of category three:
~Your way works better 30% of the time, my way works better 30% of the time, either way works 90% of the time, and the other 10% is going to be a disaster no matter what.~