Left the hospital yesterday, staying in a sauna / guesthouse on my father’s farm in Brock-something-or-other.
Lots of adjusting to do, memories, culture, people, places, things. Funny how little things like splitting wood or freezing rain can still hold such sway on the brain after so many years.
It’s not just memories, though, there’s something karmic-like about it all. Spent five nights in the hospital and on our way out, heard a voice in the lobby say, “Noah Greenspoon?” Yeah, that was my name twelve years ago. Funny how certain people show up at certain times, like when you’re walking out the door, they just happen to be walking in… if I didn’t think karma responsible, I’d suspect foul play… by Mara perhaps?
Sorry, the jetlag and persistant cough has me still a little dizzy. Still, the mind is quite at peace with the “Canadianness” of everything – Je suis Canadien and all that… it’s in the bones, maybe.
That’s another thing to be reconciled, Canada meets Buddhist Monk. There is hope they might lie well together, strange bed fellows though they be. And yet having been thrown together so violently this past week, I start to see how deep is the level of discord. Which is another reason to be thankful for heading off to Winnipeg two Saturdays hence to stay with the Sri Lankan community there. That will certainly soften the transition, though it does feel a bit like a cop-out. I guess I’m still not ready to live on the streets of Toronto
Ah, me blabbering on when I should be meditating. Peace all.