I'm going over to my month-long house sitting gig after work today. I asked Sparkle Orange and Bounce if they want to come--I would like to get to know them better.
They did want to.
As I was packing them in the bike bag, they said they wanted to say thank-you and good-bye to the Japanese tree lilac next door, the one that was unceremoniously cut down last week.
Of their own accord, they said the Heart Sutra for the tree.
They weren't even here at the time of the Bee Burial, when Mz taught the others this prayer. The others must have passed it along.
They did want to.
As I was packing them in the bike bag, they said they wanted to say thank-you and good-bye to the Japanese tree lilac next door, the one that was unceremoniously cut down last week.
Of their own accord, they said the Heart Sutra for the tree.
They weren't even here at the time of the Bee Burial, when Mz taught the others this prayer. The others must have passed it along.
Gaté, gaté (Gone, gone), Paragaté (Gone beyond), Parasamgaté (Gone utterly beyond)
Bodhi! Svaha! (Awake! YAY!)
Bye-bye sweet tree. It seems so unfair that we don't ritually mourn the end of such lives, especially when we're killing them in their prime.
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