Longing and Belongong

Today I had a feeling. It was something between a homesickness and a premonition. I saw myself walking up the narrow, dirt path through the campgrounds of Shambhala Mountain Center, towards the Stupa. I could smell it and I could feel the cold.

I want to go back. Suddenly I could feel the excitement and rush of the kitchen. I could feel the hush of Pushpa and the makeshift silence of the staff shrine room in Summer and the early morning push to get to the Dathun tent on time for morning chants. I can taste the Chocolate and coconut water of the gift shop and I can feel the tension of summer staff arrivals and the hope of some fleeting crush as the participants arrive by the busload. I miss being in a practice environment.

I miss the cremations and the weddings. I miss pushing myself to grow and break through all the cocoons of myself. I need to be in an environment where my growth means something.

I want to go back.