(Sometimes news of the world took its time to get to the Sooke hills, so I was always glad when Bob included a few newspaper clippings with his missives. The two enclosed with this one informed me that an eight-year old elephant named Jumbo, who had perhaps the world's biggest sinus problem, died of a heart attack during tusk surgery; and that to mark the occasion of Karen Ann Quinlan's 25th birthday a mass was celebrated at her bedside where she'd lain in a coma for some years. 'We have so much to be thankful for,' her mother, Julia Quinlan, said. She never thought Karen would celebrate her 25th birthday. -- Hūm)
Wat Suan Moke -- '79
Yes! I've always (!) thought that if Achan Cha ever went to India he would promptly be re-named Achan Acha[1]. Even his name goes around twice! He too goes around twice: having been once to the West, he goes again, at the end of the month. And, possibly in late June, he may be in or around Vancouver. If you can drag your hill over there (will the ferry take it? would it float? are there city ordinances about hills walking the streets?), it might be worthwhile to meet him. (He also brings his hill.)
I'm at Ven, Buddhadasa's place in the South. He has no plans to go anywhere. Neither do I. It's flat, nearly sea-level, and muggy, but it has a distinction only shared by Kandy, in Ceylon and Almora, in India, both in hill country, among all the Asian jungle I've been in: no mosquitos, I haven't figured out why. (Maybe the mosquitos are still figuring out me.) Gnawing on Bones, I also haven't figured out how the hip bone's connected to the thigh bone, or any other, for that matter. Where's dat ol' heart bone? Amazing how bones can be fleshed out.
On this long narrow isthmus if I go long either east or west I'll soon be in the sea. Up or down -- the yoyo bit again (again!) -- is the only way, I can only be lost in half as many ways. Lost? Isthmus be de place. Merry isthmus!
V.
(Dr. Johnson met Descartes: I stink, therefore, I am.)
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[1] ah cha (Hindi) Yep! OK! Right-on! etc.
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