So I have returned from the retreat. I left the snowy forests of Glen Spey, those crystal woods that clinked and glistened like Narnia. I left a glowing room where I sat for a couple of weeks and counted hundreds of thousands of mantras with a group of seven other shining souls.
I jumped upon a train that took me back through the freezing streets of Manhattan, where I stood in line for a Mega Bus and watched as people stressed and worried about the late bus. I stood there in bubble of bliss and calm, what's the hurry? I noticed how quickly we city people will leap to worry at the mere suggestion of a problem (where is the problem anyway?) The bus soon rolled around the corner.
I returned to the impressive beauty of Maine and found our house buried under four feet of snow, and a husband with a broken bone. He needed me, and I appeared just in time.
And now I sit and ponder the last days of the year. Because the Year of the Rabbit is nearly upon us. The ground may still be rock solid outside, there are no signs of bulbs or narcissus here, but I can feel something stirring within. A plan of attack. A gathering of energy. A decision that this year, I will come flying out of the cocoon and build and write and plan and conspire and grow.
And it makes me think of White Rabbits, that iconic Hong Kong chewy delight. It's my symbol for the coming Lunar New Year. That city is still in my bones... so I am going to embrace it. The Corp is rising and the Dai Lok Tong looks set to come hurtling into the minds of New Englanders.
What are you going to decide to do this year?