Four More Days

Only four more days until I go home.

I’m at Shambhala Mountain Center right now, where I’ve been for the past few days. I’m sitting in my very favorite room in the Shambhala Lodge–#308—watching and listening to the thunder and lightning and the sound of rain.

Of course it’s nowhere near as luxurious as where I was house sitting, but in some ways it’s even better because when I’m here, I’m in the kingdom of Shambhala. That is what it feels like. There are several hundred people on the land right now and they’re all here to practice, to look at their own minds. It’s quite intense and at the same time, nothing is going on. I have my writing desk set up just below the window (as you can see) and it’s just wonderful to sit here and work and occasionally see someone walking by. Where I was house sitting, I had the marvelous sensation of being in a cloud aerie. Looking out the windows, I saw an enormous landscape. Here, there is an equally wonderful feeling of being on the earth. It feels so good.

I’ve been having a great writing experience here. I’ve been waking quite early, around 5:30, getting a cup of tea, and getting right to work. My goal is to write 2000 words per day and in the last few days, I’ve been done by around 8:30! That’s it. Then there is the whole day ahead of me. I am very hopeful that I’m going to meet my goal of going home with 50,000 words towards my new book, since as of this morning, I’m up to just under 45,000. It’s due in October. If I can complete the manuscript by the end of August and then have all of September to simply think carefully about everything, that will be a miracle, a joy, a tremendous blessing. Not to mention a first. In the past, I’ve been writing the book basically up until the final fedex delivery on the final day before it’s due. NOT fun.

So much of my time is spent thinking of my teacher, Sakyong Mipham Rinpoche, and of his father, Chogyam Trungpa Rinpoche, who is the person who entered me into the dharma in the first place, through his books. I think about Trungpa Rinpoche all the time. I often wonder what he would tell me about my practice, if he would think I was a good student or not. I usually weigh in on the “not” side. In any case, in writing “The Wisdom of a Broken Heart,” it is clear to me that this book is my attempt to meet the mind of Trungpa Rinpoche. I hardly dare admit that, but nonetheless it’s true. His teachings on warriorship, tenderness, loneliness, and sadness, are so completely beautiful and perfect that I feel like I must have been born with them already in my heart. They touch me, not in the way of exciting new information, but more like someone waking you up from a dream and reminding you of where you really (already) are. There is no possible way to express gratitude to him, or to Sakyong Mipham for teaching me how to know my own mind, moment to moment. Well, there is one way. I could become completely enlightened. That would probably be the only way to say thank you.

On the land here at Shambhala Mountain Center is the Great Stupa of Dharmakaya, built to commemorate and preserve the spirit of Chogyam Trungpa. It is unbelievably beautiful and ornate.

Inside is a 25’ statue of the Buddha.

To get to the Stupa, you walk along a path that leads through the most gentle and wonderful little aspen grove, with a rock bench. When I’m back in Boston and wishing I could calm down, I think of this bench.To me it’s the best seat in the world.

I love the aspen grove. Aspens always look like they’re at a cocktail party.

So today I practiced in the Stupa and all I can say is, it’s the best place in the world to practice. And sitting outside it, I look out on my very favorite view in the world. Shambhala Mountain Center is home to many personal superlatives as you can see.

Shambhala has its own anthem, written by Trungpa Rinpoche and, here comes another superlative, it is my favorite song ever. Whenever it’s sung, there is always, always one line that make me cry, even though, every single time, I swear that it won’t.

Rejoice! The Great Eastern Sun arises!

There is so much goodness in this world. You are made of it and so am I. All troubles are workable. Raw and tender beauty is palpable in each moment. This is what is meant by Great Eastern Sun. Rejoice!

categorized in: dharma, wisdom of a broken heart