As the days shrink to the size of a postage stamp, it is harder to squeeze it all in. I don't even know where the minutes disappear to, but suddenly - again - it is night. My afternoon walks with the dogs are now laden with dusk, we rarely make it outside the yard before the sun has been swallowed by wilderness. Tonight, as we turned the bend near the back gate of the property, I was stunned by the sight of the moon - round, resplendant, gleaming: surely a throne for the Guru. The protector mountain was still and clear in the last of the light, a film of pink clouds framing its majesty. I stopped still in my tracks, just for a moment.
I have wanted to describe the startling yellow of leaves against penetrating blueness of sky, the view from the meadows high on the property, where I scrambled across rocks and gullies to reach the far fence and hang no trespassing signs; from there you peek right over the mountains to the Mogollan rim,and beyond. The world peels back from its fixed point of reference into the place where the unknown resides. The biting cold mornings where we search for a scrap of sun on our walks, and i ferret around looking for firewood. It has become part of our daily ritual - a small back pack every morning and evening, filled to bursting with what I can break and carry. Unloading it at home is the real game; Nyima and Milo think they are ALL for them, and often have to choose at least one stick to carry away, and quickly discard.
I spent a few days last week working with the dogs of Tara's Babies. Still some familiar faces, for those that know - Wolfie, Tibet (Scruffy found a home!), the smattering of pitbulls - the gentleman Cuddles everyone's favourite to walk! Then there are the ferals, who have come such a long way since their February arrival. Most of them eat from the hand, and one - Wangchung, a teddy bear chow reminiscent of Sandy - was brough inside to learn home habits, and quickly became part of Raven's (our on-site carer) pack; he has now adopted TWO!, but promises no more. He has, however, from the kindness of his heart, taken our newest recruit in to stay with his family. Khen is a big, strong, white dog (think Archie), not very old, who has borne the brunt of fights and has large infected wounds on his neck. He was delivered to us by a teenage boy from Young and his dad, when he was dumped on the road near their home, and the humane society said it would euthanise him. Why? he is almost 100% blind and deaf. He is an Australian Shepherd mix(he has Nyima's beeyootiful nose), known as a 'Lethal' Aussie (terrible name), and 1 in 4 of these are born with severe disabilities like his. He is so loving and gorgeous, his opaque eyes flickering. But when left in a pen, it transpired he is also an escape artist extraordinare. After 6 escapes (he didn't run, just wanted to be with people) Raven - who has the biggest, softest heart - took him in. So he now stays in the yurt. Yesterday I gave him a comforter which once was Jetsunma's, and which Gypsy likes to sleep on; Raven told me he is very happy with it!
I have been listening to Jetsunma's recent musical offering to us - i have it on repeat as i do chores - and it is seeping in to cracks deep within. The first few times, of course, I listened with very ordinary ears - did i like this bit better, or that; i noted the harmonies and the guitar. I heard the words. But now it is more than that - i am beginning to know the words, to feel the words, to sense the meaning. The whole Path seems to float on that voice, pristine, penetrating, it is a serenade of both promise and accomplishment. Perhaps - finally - there is a glimpse that the new beginning of which she sings is now, in our hearts. It is the overt activity in which we all are engaged, but it is also something else....that may be the dance we see, but the rhythm is timeless. The days seem to become the size of a stamp - can we fit one more thing in - and yet the texture they offer, the opportunity in every tiny moment is, in fact, the potential of all things. In your day, and in mine.