Rugged Interdependency - Amaravati Buddhist Monastery

Golden Highways Revisited: 1998July 7 thDawn came, still and pure – a low mist filling the valley bottom in the distance, thesky above us Prussian blue velvet, set with the morning star.The early sitting (6:15) is in silence and is followed by a communal chatteringof the teachers at breakfast – just as the sun breaks over the hill crest to the east.Morning meditation instructions come from Julie, Guy and Jack and the hoursunwind until midday – including another impromptu planning meeting in thecouncil house. I receive my meal at the head of the line and make my way out to thesweat-lodge area, beside the almost dried-up creek. Taking a seat under the shadeof a large bay tree, I spread my mat and sit down to eat alone. Dappling shade, fragranceof bay and the accumulated silence of 100 souls weaves a spell around theglade of serenity and pure life.As I needed to leave that afternoon they gave me the early Dhamma talk slotat 3:30 – I gave the familiar outlines of Right Attitude and the essential nature ofmettā. It seemed to go down well – even though the hall full of (mostly) ol’ timeVipassanā warriors must have heard it all before. It is a strange crowd: probablyonly a couple under 35 in the whole room – the ageing faithful of People’s Parkand the Woodstock Nation, the well-heeled seekers of happiness beyond comfortin Marin County.Young Aaron comes to collect and we take some tea before departure. It’s 6:30by the time we eventually leave – dropping into the ever-more-popular CouncilHouse to say a cheerio to the teachers gathered there. Broad smiles and applaudsfor chanting, mingle with añjalis and waves of goodwill – and so to the road andthe north, and the dear confines of Redwood Valley once again.We arrive at Abhayagiri at 8:30, having come through the rolling, boulderstrewncountry lanes of West Marin via Nicasio and the Hicks Valley CheeseFactory. By the time all the hello’s have been said and a cursory glance has beengiven to the mail heap, it is 10:30 and feeling late.Tired legs carry me gladly up the dusty hill into the gathering dark. The moonlightis already bright as we approach the 15 th day of the lunar fortnight; silver blueshimmers call in mottled tones from the leaves of the madrones and manzanitaswhich line the walk.The log cabin is at the end of the path; the lamp is charged, the water jug filled,the floor swept and the bedding laid out. In appreciation and a glow of glad returnto the mountain, eventually I lie down to sleep.July 8 th – Āsālhā PūjāThe last day in the great cycleFollowing the return there is always the shaving, bathing, pile of laundry and the(almost) equally huge collection of mail – cyber and snail – that has accumulatedalong the way.After giving all these a fair amount of attention in the morning, and now thatwe have Tan Sudanto amongst us, the four resident bhikkhus gathered to do the110