LIVING, AGING AND DYING

I signed up for a trip to Soquel, California; it is just below San Francisco and near enough to the coast to get the cool but foggy morning weather and spectacular afternoon sunshine. The sponsor, Elderhostel, is an organization whose purpose is to provide interesting yet educational travel programs to varied destinations, for seniors. It was late August; the transition from summer to fall. Appropriate enough for the program I was attending: “Living, Aging and Dying,” which was being presented at a Buddhist Center located in a mountainous area populated with redwoods.

Everyone attends this kind of program for a particular reason. The question was asked by one of the early presenters, in order to get an idea of what prompted a group of oldsters to spend precious time on this presumably morbid topic. The answers from the audience ran the gamut of those who were seeking meaning at the end of life, those who were still seeking the meaning of life, husbands who were pleasing their wives by acquiescing to this week long program, those who simply wanted to get away to this particular location and the rest seemed to be a kind of blend of them all. I was in the latter group.

The program offered several different yet related activities which included: early morning meditation and chanting in the temple area of the private retreat, daily Qi Gong lessons, stress reduction through self massage, nature walks through the 170 acres of redwood forest, acupressure, discussion of meditation techniques, key Buddhist principals as they relate to living, aging and dying and all the vegetarian meals one could hope for. This was not a program for the faint of heart. There was only one public phone on the property; cell phones would not work because access to a tower was not available, no television or radio and evening activities ended by 8:30 most nights. Clearly, one must be rather devoted to the cause to find comfort or a growth experience under these circumstances. Most were.

It was the afternoon of day two of the five day program. A nature hike was scheduled for the group; we would walk up the mountain around a loop in the redwood forest, to a future shrine site and then finally to a memorial shrine which contained a Buddha statue easily 25 feet tall and was a place, for those who chose, to store the ashes of loved ones. Most of the group went, some opted for a pre-planned golf outing (not part of the program) others idled by the pool or signed up for a massage. We learned about the plant life in the area and how far straight up a steep hill we could walk before a stop was in order. It took three stops to reach the top. It always amazes me how much seemingly old people can do. Once we got to more or less level ground, there were several built-in resting/meditation stops along the loop, complete with bench and a sign with philosophical phrases. I took a picture of each one, mostly for future reference and to avoid switching from sunglasses to bifocals be able to read each one. This is just another one of the annoyances of getting older.

The hike had taken about an hour as we approached the last stop: The Memorial Shrine. This was clearly a special place, surrounded by Tibetan Prayer flags, a parking lot off to the left and flower gardens at each corner of the temple, which was surrounded by a raised wooden deck, which served as an entry to the building. I got off the walkway and snapped a few pictures of the garden, got to the deck and realized I needed to remove my sneakers if I wanted entry into the Shrine. No problem. Then I saw the Giant Buddha. It was awesome. I had to get a picture, but it was too large so I lay on the floor and pointed upward; I got most of it. What a moving experience; a truly a holy and mystical place. That is when I realized it. I had lost my reading glasses.

They were no longer hanging from the collar of my sweatshirt. I performed a panic pat down, hoping they were in a pocket, on a belt loop or anywhere, but they were definitely gone. I frantically looked around the room, by all the shoes just outside the door and they were no where to be seen. We needed to get back to the retreat center for the next scheduled program.

I mentally reviewed all my actions before the hike. Maybe I never took them. We were walking in bright sun after all. Maybe I had left them in the room…I thought to myself doubtfully. It was consolation enough to get me back to the center, but a scan of my room confirmed they were most definitely lost. It would be impossible to write anything now and difficult to see well in the remaining classes. I was trying to decide what the next step should be when a fellow retreat member, Joan offered to repeat the hike we had just made at the end of this next program. It would still be light enough. The plan gave me some comfort, as I tried to pay attention to the presentation on massage for stress reduction. I could use a little stress reduction right now.

We scurried back up the steep hill and retraced our steps in reverse order. We decided not to go to the Shrine, since that is where I realized I had lost them and the area was pretty well scoured already. We reasoned that it wasn’t likely that they would be there. Rest stop by rest stop, we walked and looked and prodded and poked but we were not successful. We returned to the retreat center in time for dinner and the next session. I was starting to think about a plan B solution.

During the next session, I thought if it were possible to find a place that makes prescription glasses in an hour, I could get an exam and have a new pair made in the next afternoon, since we were going to have some free time then anyway. At the break I asked if there was a listing in the local phone book of such a place. There was, and I had a workable solution in mind. Joan suggested we meet at 7 AM and do the entire hike again when it was lighter. I was willing and happy for the company. I reasoned to myself everything would be covered with dew and things might be easier to see then. For now I had to get through this session without taking notes.

We started at different times but still met at the top of the hill at just after 7. I brought the six foot walking stick with me for protection. You never know when a gopher or a rabbit might pop out of the woods. We did the hike in the same order that it was originally presented. We took our time at each rest stop, thinking they may have gotten worked into the mulch that was around each bench. Still nothing. Just because, I suggested that we go back to the Shrine. Maybe they were in a corner or someplace that I hadn’t looked yesterday, Joan was ok with that. So we looked again. I went off the path in the same place I had yesterday, took pretend pictures to repeat the same actions. Went to the deck looked all around. Still nothing. Well, it was at this point that I realized they were lost yesterday, and so I was ready to accept it. I admitted it out loud as we started walking the path that led to the road that would take us back to the retreat center: “OK, I accept it, they are gone.” We consoled ourselves by saying we did the best we could and moved on. I was walking in front of Joan and she had stopped to read the prayer flags that hung over the walkway.

They were a bit different than any of the others I had seen at the center. These had stenciled figures of animals and plants and little handwritten prayers on them. Each one was unique and seemingly written by a child. These must be for the ashes enshrined in the Memorial Shrine behind us, I thought to myself. They were so heartfelt that I had to step back a read a few myself. They were positioned a couple of feet above our heads and so were hard to see. One said: I wish that all animals would not die. Another said I wish happiness for everyone. I had moved to the right of Joan and the path and read one for myself. It said: I wish for my mommy.

I paused and then said, “me too.”

I looked down on the ground to the right and there were my dew covered glasses.


By: E Rossopoulos