This post was originally written on day 15 of Bhante Sumano’s limited-run, daily, January newsletter, Anicca. It’s reposted here with minimal edits.
this wandering life
There’s two weeks left of the newsletter, but just about a week more of our stay in New York City. (Afterwards, we’ll head back to Blue Cliff Monastery for a couple weeks.) And although technically we’re in a busier part of the city, this time around things have been quite calm.
Perhaps I’m getting used to the rhythms of the city—the rumble of the train, the honking down on the street below, the energetic pace of pedestrians. But I think there’s also a settledness of deep winter that’s seeping—like the cold—into everyone’s bones. I feel that it’s hanging in the air.
At some point we’ll make our way to California where we’ll be for the month of March, maybe longer. I wonder what the atmosphere there will be like? I’ve been a couple times, but not as a monk and not as a wanderer. But I do know, at the very least, it will be warmer.
We’ll be a sight—us with our backpacks, tent, water bottles, and sleeping bags in hand. The most basic but necessary questions of course come up: Will we get food? Will we have somewhere to sleep?
So much of this kind of life is taking a leap into the unknown. But I’m a planner, so I’ll also be scouring topographical maps and researching roads and towns and local park regulations. What can I say? I’m only so much of a romantic.
the tumult of change
Sometimes I feel caught between two opposing selves—the “false self” imposed by society and what I would call my “true self.” How often we confuse the two and assume society’s mold to be our true self. Battles between our two selves rarely result in a peaceful reconciliation. Our mind becomes a battlefield on which the Five Aggregates—the form, feelings, perceptions, mental formations, and consciousnesses of our being—are strewn about like debris in a hurricane. Trees topple, branches snap, houses crash. These are our loneliest moments. Yet every time we survive such a storm, we grow a little. Without storms like these, I would not be who I am today. But I rarely hear such a storm coming until it is already upon me.
—Thich Nhat Hanh, Fragrant Palm Leaves
P.S. For some lofty reflections on life and poetry, check out “The Fire of Life” by Richard Rorty.
P.P.S. I’m re-reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s Fragrant Palm Leaves (quoted above), and it is such a balm for the soul. It’s taken on an even deeper meaning and resonance for me on so many levels. I highly recommend it.
Until tomorrow—
Bhante Sumano