Before I left Commonweal, I had to take one last trip out to the Meditation Hut, aka the Chapel, aka the Shrine and probably a dozen other pet names. I like to lay on the straw mats out there, flat on the floor and talk to my mother. It’s one of the places I hear her best. Eight years ago, before I left the retreat early to be at her deathbed, I wrote her name, TEMME, on a stone here and laid it in the pile with all the other memorial stones, feathers, glass and rocks. I’m sure her rock is still in this pile, but I don’t need to find it. I feel her out here.
It’s a perfect fall day—sunny and windy with a breeze coming in over the ocean. I laid on the floor in the God Shack until some other people came by. It was their turn and time for me to go.
What a holy place this is . . .just look for yourself