This is a line from a lovely poem, recently re-read.
“That Which is Engraved Upon the Heart That Trusts to the Eternal.”
Translated from the Chinese of the Thirtieth Ancestor, Great Master Chien-chih Seng-ts’an
From Buddhist Writings, a book from our practice.*
This was spotted on our morning walk around the golf course. Someone had placed this image, that of Kwan Yin, on the stump at the side of the trail.
Kwan Yin, also known as Kanzeon, Avalokiteswara, Great Compassion – She Who Hears the Cries of the World.
A reminder of the real.
* Jiyu-Kennett, MacPhillamy and Nearman, translators. Buddhist Writings (Mount Shasta California: Shasta Abbey, 1994) p.213.
A bit of a different scene now that we have returned home. The Fraser River again a theme. This is Foreshore Park on a cool, quiet morning. Doesn’t evoke the awe that a grizzly sighting or mountain vista might, but soothes the heart nonetheless.
Socks also a recurring theme. Sailor rib, Kroy yarn, easy project.
And a wee project, quite small:
A cloud of cashmere, local stuff, making my hands itch to spin it.
There is no question – seeing a bear in its own turf is a highlight. Most sightings are like this:
That’s a black bear’s round rear end. What usually happens on a hike is there is a noise, we turn, exclaim, and see the furry backside of an animal very sensibly getting away from us. The presence of two-legged mammals is usually enough to send the four-legged mammals off to quieter places. That is how is should be.
The bear looks brown in the photo and in fact it is. It’s a cinnamon bear. Black bears come in a range of colour and on our walks at our friend’s cabin we saw two cinnamon coloured ones.
Earlier in the day we encountered this lovely lady. We locked gazes a moment, till I foolishly said something along the lines of “wow” under my breath. That’s when we could see this bear realize that yes indeed we were those darned humans, and she sensibly headed for the hills, along with her yearling cub.
You can see her mouth is open a bit – she is trying to smell us and it helps if one’s mouth is open. (I think we humans do that too, but I may be making that up.)
The only reason we got this close is because the wind was coming towards us. (And by close, remember I have a reasonable zoom lens going on here!)
This is such a rich retreat. Walking in the quiet, seeing aspects of the world just going on about its business, whether we are there or not. We get to have a small look into beyond our immediate horizons on a trip like this.
Mission Bells, or Chocolate Lilies they are sometimes called. Scads of them near the cabin.
(I knit but honestly, pictures of knitted socks are pretty dull stacked up against these. Maybe when we get back to town…)
Cell range and thus the ability to communicate with the world around us has been patchy. That is fine – it is a rare privilege to be able to drop out as we have been doing.
Recently a massive rain and snow storm hit a portion of the province. We were here when it hit. This is a narrow river valley into the coastal mountains west of Lillooet. Funny what a difference weather conditions make to the perceptions. In black clouds, rain and fog – foreboding. In sun – benign. Conditions come, conditions go.
We are back at our friends’ cabin. This place seems to be where we commonly begin and finish our journeys. But not for a while yet.