First Rose

In our effort to soften up our rocky hill covered with prickly, spiky plants, we planted roses. (Not unspiky themselves, but so lovely when they bloom). We planted most of them in the pots which housed last summer's failed hop experiment. This one was the first to bloom, and we have both watched it like parents anticipating the birth of a child. Plant and flower are doing fine.

I have been reading an article in the Sunday Times about Peter Matthieson, published the same day he died, although I'm sure that was not the intent. Ever since I read At Play in the Fields of the Lord I have been interested in his writing. Although not a prolific writer, each of his books was completely different from the others. Although he considered himself a novelist, one of my favorite books was The Snow Leopard which he wrote about hunting for that most elusive creature in the Himalaya with George Schaller.

I didn't realize until I read this article how much of his search for the snow leopard was also an attempt to write about his Zen practice. The search for kensho (sudden enlightenment) is interwoven with his travels through the Himalaya. "Homegoing is the purpose of my practice…and some way on this journey, I have started home." In 1981 he was ordained as a Buddhist priest.

I know just enough about Zen Buddhism to know that understanding comes in the form of inquiry, not in words of explanation. "The Buddha says that all suffering comes from clinging. I don't want to cling.".Just a few months after he said that, Peter Matthieson died of Leukemia. I think Peter Matthiesson has found his way home. He has given me a lot to think about.