Yorkville, Ontario
Looking at People
All went fairly smooth, for the day, with indoor services involving services to our resident monks, classes and meetings on the phone as periodical sun rays shafted through windows, broken up by intermittent cloud casting and serious rain. It’s hard to believe that our west coast is so dry and, in Canada, of all places, hearing that there are record breaking hot spells, when in central zones, like here, there are regular downpours.
One village, Lytton, in British Columbia, that I walked through, hit a temperature the other day of 46° C/over 120° F. Two days ago, a train came through and its wheels sparked a fire that took down 90% of the place (population 250). It’s devastated. I recall how normally it is rather barren with sparse coniferous trees growing along mountain-side country while the mighty Thompson River makes its way. Evacuation was inevitable. Much of the now displaced population is indigenous. It is sad. It is the material world with its sukha dukha, glad and sad reality.
Now with Toronto’s wetness behind me and rain drained, I could get out, so I made my way five blocks to trendy Yorkville, for fun, to catch a glimpse of sleek-dressed night strollers and slow-moving motorist in the fanciest sports cars. It was with a trite entertainment that I somewhat enjoyed while I sat on a bench. Faces weren’t sad. They also were not happy, but pleasure-seeking they were. “You’re looking in the wrong place,” I wanted to shout out, while I fingered through my mantra beads. “Touch your spirit.”
May the Source be with you!
3 km
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