as the suns’ first rays

begin to whisper over the horizon,

the swallows speak softly their good mornings

and the bats good night,

I step out into the crisp kingdom of sacredness.

the lake is still,

reflecting the dark red rocks

as I look out–

two mirrors quietly observing one another.

The world wakes up:

ripples begin to dance shyly,

geese skim the cool water’s surface,

and suddenly, like a fish leaping from water,

a fish leaps from the water.

The sun, emboldened in its proclaimation,

drapes my face in its warm glow

glistening off my golden armor and helmet

and sending rainbows ricocheting

from my diamond throne.

The water is waking up,

and the ripples confuse the images

(if never the mirror itself)

and as the first drone of the diesel boat

dipping its dirty little beak in the water

cuts the silence

with all the surgical precision of a dull rusty nail,

I see

that this sacred kingdom, this

enlightened society

that exists between me and you,

the objects of my perceptions, affections,

this has never disappeared,

it is only I who have forgotten

how to look.

It’s a beautiful rainy day in Halifax, and despite the low pressure, things feel uplifted, cheerful, and relaxed. We have safely navigated an immense visitation by more or less the entirety of the Ripa clan, and have continued to help maintain a restful environment in which the new Princess of Shambhala can begin to explore her world.

I also just returned from a week-long vacation, which was wonderful in every way. After the long visit in the court, it was a big breath of fresh air to step back, sleep, hang out with my wonderful girlfriend, and explore the breadth of Nova Scotia from the inside of a Hyundai.

My new-found passions include coffee and clothing. I would by lying if I said I did not stay up way past my bedtime last night thinking of various outfits I could don today. If I had a lot of money, I would spend at least half of it on clothes. With the other half I would invest in a start-up that makes ingenious little kitchen gadgets.

The fall is coming, and the leaves are changing, and the wind is reminding us all that we’re in Canada (as if Tim Horton’s wasn’t enough…) I have to confess that while I hate subsidizing healthcare with taxes when I seek to fulfill my materialistic desires to own more clothes, and I hate Tim Horton’s for petty selfish reasons (they only accept Master Card, and once I was super hungry and was denied my doughnut because I only had a visa), I actually like Nova Scotia. I’m not saying I’m planning on moving here any time soon, but it actually might not be so bad… Don’t tell anyone I said that.

I am sitting in a deck chair, watching the ocean, and resting in the ridiculously pleasant air of midday Indian summer weather in Nova Scotia.

It is not supposed to be like this.

The absence of rain and the abundance of delightful weather makes me think that something horrible will happen any minute: a swarm of locusts, a plague perhaps, maybe Godzilla.

The storm on the horizon might turn out to be less like a reptilian, city crushing, sky-scraper-sized blender, and one of a more terrifying sort: the manifestation of the mind and retinue of another enlightened being descending to the Kalapa Court. His Eminence, Namkha Drimed Rinpoche, comes tomorrow for three weeks, and what was an already full house is about to overflow. It will be delightful and auspicious; and halfway through, I’m anticipating that I will want to run far, far away.

In related news, I got a haircut last week. I’m happy with the results, although I am still somewhat distraught by by having paid $50 to subject myself to an inane monologue; sweet and folksy, I’ll grant, but vacuous and self-absorbed to be sure. Add to that the ambiance: the hipness of the exposed duct work, rotting pine, and European dance music that made me feel I was grinding my teeth at 4am; altogether I should have gotten a good $20 shaved (sorry…) off the price for my patience and good humor. The haircut itself was rather good though…

Other thoughts:

Martinis in Halifax are crap. Universal health care is good, but so is a decent pour.
Halifax could learn something about recycling from Boulder.
Maggots, generally speaking, are pretty gross.
Bathing by filling a water glass is dangerous, inefficient, and highly unsatisfying.
Espresso and steamed milk is a delightful combination. I would drink it more or less continuously if my adrenal glands would allow it.
My suffering is unquestionably caused by my lack of willingness to surrender to the situation, but I am also resisting surrendering to that truth.
While most of this post is dominated by kvetching, things are generally resplendent, brilliant, and overwhelmingly beautiful here in Kalapa.

It has been a month since I’ve written anything. That’s not to say I haven’t been thinking about writing, but I know as well as you that that doesn’t count.

Anyway, since my last foray into the blogocasm, I have run at dizzying altitudes among beautiful mountain scenery, received the transmission that reveals the nature of mind, seen two moose, almost walked into a rattlesnake, celebrated the 49th day of my good friend’s passing, clothed myself in nothing but white for an extended length of time, spent approximately four nights with my girlfriend, walked into a tree, hugged another tree, and most recently ate a delicious piece of seared tuna, which I followed up with a room-temperature dutsi-filled beer.

Trungpa Rinpoche said something to the effect of: “If you can feel the pain and heartbreak of the setting sun, and simultaneously hold the vision of the Great Eastern Sun, then the warrior can make a proper cup of tea.” So here I am: tenderized like a piece of roadkill, and bursting with joy from the depth of my heart. For those of you who don’t get to serve that many cups of tea, I can tell you that this is the real deal. Your heart’s blood is the ingredient that will make one infusion of hot water and herbs different from another; it will make it glow with warm light of compassion.

If you can’t serve tea to anyone else, just make yourself a nice cup.

There is now a new addition to the Mukpo household: a beautiful baby girl. Jetsun Drukmo Yeshe Sarasvati Ziji Mukpo was born on August 11 at 10:24 am. She is a gorgeous little bundle of sweetness, whom no doubt will find new and profound ways to enrich and terrorize those of us lucky enough share her life.