When it was time to leave, I couldn’t. My heart was a magnet and I was being pulled further and further into this sacred place. I felt more certain I belonged right there than in any other place I have ever been. It was as if I saw a life review and every single thing that ever happened was pre-designed to get me to that moment. I don’t even believe in that kinda thing but there I was with my heart blown open with the deepest knowing I’d ever known.

I bowed so many times my knee’s were bruised and eventually landed in front of this crumbling Buddha, perhaps the least remarkable of them all.  Something about the disrepair of him reminded me of myself: broken and yet somehow still here and beautiful.

The monk kneeled down next to me and started to chant.  I chanted too, and, although I suck at chanting, in this place it all sounded holy and perfect.  My heart burst open again and again, unrepairable and with no desire to ever repair.

~ a brief excerpt from Chapter 10 of a book of stories about how to live in the world using the 37 Practices of a Bodhisattva being released soon.  Stay tuned.