Just off the avenue I call the countryside because it has so many trees and behind these branches are benches circling a fountain that bubbles elegantly during summer months.
I spent many months sitting by that fountain, slowly brushing away, like an archeologist, the rubble of life events the Buddha said we would all suffer.
I don't sit there as much anymore, but the gently undigging never ends, nor should it. After all, every morning, Florence sat down to practice. Every night, we brushed our teeth. Every day, everyone gets to start anew.
When walking that daily Exodus into the birthright of Resurrection, a prayer is offered: take away what I don't need anymore so I may travel without burden to the life I was born to live.
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Related Posts:
Leaving Egypt On Maundy Thursday [a Her New York favorite]
Migratory Patterns
Sunday Memories: In Honor Of Past Exoduses
Going to Brooklyn To Leave Egypt
Before The Rain, An Encore Of Shelter From Storm
Sunday Memories: Part Three - Home Work
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