Natural process

I stood on the plateau overlooking the valley below. Sun set, the world was coloured orange and gold, warmth fading slowly as the sun dropped slowly into the mountains with their backs hunched over the horizon. The air filled with the chirping of insects, and gentle song of birds. The dogs stood around me and wagged their tails in glee. The sound of water flowed quietly in the background.

It's been almost a year since I last stayed at the monastery. A little haven of peace, an undiscovered place of peace and bliss hidden away in the mountains of central Taiwan. As a lone stranger I wandered onto the monastery grounds almost three years ago. I was not sure what to expect, and only little more than the basic ideas about the Buddhist teachings and way of life. But almost immediately, I was mesmerised. By the beauty, the tranquility that nature had to offer, by the leaves that seemed to come alive in the wind, by the sounds of invisible creatures that lived in the dense forests surrounding us, by the mountains, sometimes draped in silky white mist, sometimes flush with green, which forever changed their colours and appearances.

The first time I visited, I only had enough clean clothes to last two days, three days max. In the end, I stayed over three weeks, and only left somewhat unwillingly to go back to the din and chaos of city life. I'd return in the course of the years, again and again. The place has become like a home, the people there like family, and the Hawaiian monk who resides there like a guide, a friend, and a father. Through him I learned about mindfulness, compassion, loving-kindness, and living with wisdom. Through him, the previously nervous and agitated me calmed down and took things as they came and went in meditative reflection. Though far from being an enlightened being, I am today a tiny step closer, and the peace and understanding of the everchanging nature of the world and things today has changed me, my world, and the world around me.

A few days ago my Buddhist master asked me a simple question. What would you do if you only had 6 months to live? I'd travel the world, I said, go to all sorts of places, see the world, because there is so much to see. And I'd write about it all, I'd share it with people stories and places that one could only imagine. Because after I'm gone, those words will be what is left of me.

It is perhaps an ideal answer, from an idealist not yet faced with the stark reality of having not much time left. We seem to live life believing we'd all die old, if we think about death at all that is. When death lurks nearby, waiting and praying, and may pounce on you at any time, the answer to the simple question may be much, much different.

This much I know from a friend, and from my mother.