Bulletin Number 3 ~ Panda Eyes (The Biopsy)

Well, the result of the MRI wasn’t great. There are 'tissue abnormalities in the prostate' and they want to carry out a biopsy under general anaesthetic. Strange kind of ‘floaty' feeling right now. As ever, plenty to be mindful of, and after the biopsy, we’ll see what’s next….

Two black eyes, surgical compression stockings, many and various unpleasantnesses while thankfully I was unconscious…. later, I realise the biopsy operation is done. "Take a look at yourself in the lake and you'll see!" my wife joshingly says. She's not wrong. I'm not a swan.... I'm a panda!

Very early start yesterday at the Hospital, arriving and leaving in total darkness and when staff weren't calling me Mr Ever (as in never) lee, they resorted to calling me Mr. Colin. Got seen and questioned by everyone from the theatre admissions clerk to the consultant surgeon. Also interviewed by an anaesthetist ~ (well two actually, because of a mix up! A profusion of confusion). And then finally I was left to sit it out in a waiting area consisting of a circle of sleepy men in various stages of scruffy undress and overnight bags, to watch the shopping channel on tv with no subtitles. No wonder they were all dozing! I thought I’d do the same.

And then.... coming weirdly from behind a thin screen, there was lots ~ and I do mean lots ~ of very raucous laughter. At first I thought it must be staff, but it turned out to be women patients who, like us, were all there to have an operation of one sort or another. I don't know if they had been given their pre-op medication already but they were definitely having a great party! At one point I heard one of them exclaim, "Let's go round and get them talking", referring to us men. The men squirmed and groaned in dismay and the women ~ some of whom were peeking through a gap in the screen ~ fell about laughing uproariously! You can't beat a good old Pompey laugh!!

Finally after a two and a half hour wait from 7-9.30am it was my turn for the theatrics. The surgeon had promised to show me the MRI scan which I had not seen yet (nor had he) and he started to go over this with me while I was being wired up and pinned down by the anaesthetist and theatre nurse. The surgeon with the registrar was situated virtually behind me, so lying on the operating table, I had to lift myself up on my elbows and crane my neck around to see. At which point the nurse would shove me back down! Anyway, I did see the two shadows that he said they would be aiming for and we had a chat (or rather a shout across the room) about sizes of prostates and bladders….  The anaesthetist then asked me what operation I thought I was going to have…. bit of an odd question.  "Who knows?" I replied with a smile... I didn't really care at this point, and let them get on with it.
In recovery, I was chillin' ~ I mean I was cold ~ and the semi-detached nurse from Spain very kindly got me a hot blanket and the anaesthetist dropped by and said, "Back to normal then?!” “Err, what's normal?!" I replied, equally cheerily. He seemed happy, so I was rapidly whisked away along endless corridors of speeding light…. like in 2001 the movie.

On the ward, where I thought I was going to get something to eat (I hadn't had anything for 16 hours and was feeling a bit peckish)  I was offered a cup of tea and a biscuit. Actually, as a matter of fact it was all kicking off at this point, and the staff were very busy attending to people whose recovery wasn't quite as 'normal' as mine ~ they were flaking out all around me and there weren't even any laughing women to lighten the mood. It was a bit of a carry on, and when a nurse held a digital thermometer up to a man’s head and about the reading said, “This can’t be right, can it?!” Sister replied wearily, “I think that’s room temperature!” It was surreal.

To get my discharge I had to, yes, you guessed it.... wait. I was a bit confused when a nurse asked me, "What's your lift called?" "What lift, I haven't got a lift!” I said stupidly. She meant my wife, who was coming to collect me. She came and yes you guessed it, we waited.... This time it was for the medication to be made up in the pharmacy. We waited and waited. We even offered to go and get the stuff, but procedure had to be followed. In the end, it turned out that although the computer said the meds were  'in preparation', in fact they had been prepared and waiting for collection a long time ago.

Much later, slowly recovering at home the following day (today) I read the small print and a medical research paper about one of the tablets I was due to start taking. Lucky I did, because I could have ended up with a floppy iris. No really! Who wants a floppy iris? This tablet is contra-indicated for anyone ~ like me ~ with a cataract or other ophthalmic conditions. So I won't take these, unless.... hang on.... let's have a read.... maybe they can cure panda eyes!
 
Despite all the hilarity, the NHS is doing its very best to sort me out and I’m really grateful for all their fine care. There is still a shadow (or two) of doubt hanging over me, as it were, to be understood and discussed and hopefully I will find out more in the next few days. Finally, as each moment unfolds and Father Christmas packs his presents and plots a course on his santanav.... be kind to yourself and one another. 

Here’s to ‘Not Yet’ and 'Happy Continuation Day'!! 

Bulletin Number 2 ~ Come Fly With Me (The MRI Scan)

At the hospital MRI department early this morning, after calling out the name of what I thought must be someone else, the young nurse in purple goes through my safety form with me. This is to make sure that I don't have anything contained within my person that will be magnetically attracted to the scanner, causing me to be ripped apart from the inside. Luckily, I don't have piercings, replacement joints or any suspicious metallic history.

So all clear with the form then, except.... the very last question ~ do I have urinary retention? Well yes! That's why I'm here. My prostate is enlarged and it's preventing my bladder from emptying fully.

I'm invited to go for a pee. And I do try, but I can't pee.... because, guess what... I have urinary retention. I explain this to her and she looks perplexed, concerned and anxious.

Never mind, I offer to catheterise myself instead, if it would help (luckily, I have brought some portable catheters with me). An empty bladder means that a better image can be obtained. Maybe it would have been helpful if the pre-scan instruction leaflet I was given had made this point. Had I not said yes to the question about urinary retention, the nurse was going to give me an injection of radioactive dye as a part of the procedure. It’s a good job I said yes. On returning from my bathroom break, and reporting my success, she was much relieved ~ as was I.

Before I knew it, two other nurses, a woman and a man, hustled me in to the 'breezy' MRI room containing a big white open-ended tunnel that looked very suitable for testing the aerodynamic qualities of jets. I was impressed and keen to get on with it ~ especially as it was a bit drafty around the rear of the fetching pink gown I was half-wearing.

Getting me in, was all too rushed, confusing and uncomfortable. Not much room for elbows and knees and many things they tried to put into place got trapped. I was the only one aware of these bits and pieces, so naturally I had to shift them. This self-help was not appreciated ~ I should have known better. Then from behind, they suddenly clamped huge headphones on me that felt as if they would crush my head flat ~ ear to ear. And finally, before they left, as they guided me in feet-first on the electric platform, I was partially strangled by the headphones cable around my neck.

I remembered reading that I had to wear these headphones because, according to the instructions, the machine would make a 'loud buzzing/tapping noise and produce some vibration'. In reality, this quaint description proved to be somewhat inaccurate, and would have been better written as:- 'Keith Moon the drummer from The Who, going berserk on a demented solo; an impatient plumber struggling with a jammed pipe, desperate to get on with his next job; prisoners in jail banging tin mugs on their bars in protest; a scene from a World War Two submarine movie with echo-location pinging all over me, depth-charges exploding, about to send me to the bottom; and 'Mayday' being repeatedly and frantically tapped out in Morse; or being caught in a car in a hail storm'. But hey, what do I know!?

Surreally superimposed on all this clatter and cacophony, were the dulcet tones of Frank Sinatra crooning in my ears.... "Come fly with me, come fly, let's fly away...."  Lasting nearly an hour, the whole thing was hilarious and distressing at the same time. I kept wondering to myself, is this what it's supposed to be like, or is the machine about to blow up with me in it?

To be fair, they did give me a little rubber ball to squeeze to alert them if I was worried about anything or needed to stop. But breathing, laying back and being mindful of the whole wondrous experience was the only realistic option. Escape and resistance was futile.

Afterwards.... curious about how the scan imagery would eventually turn out, and slowly recovering over breakfast in the hospital restaurant, I notice an inscription on my stainless steel knife blade ~ it says 'Utopia'.

Perfect!!

Bulletin Number 1 ~ Prostate Cancer.... What Me? (I Only Wanted A New Bed!)

"Small scratch!" the nurse says dully, automatically on script as she syringes my blood. "Keep this on for an hour", she mumbles as she sticks the cotton wad to the crook of my arm. 

Surprisingly ~ too quickly ~ the following day, my breathless doctor calls to inform me that he is putting me on the fast-track for prostate investigations! This is all happening so fast. "Your PSA level is high". "Have a good weekend," he says, "I'll be around on Monday if you want to ask any questions". (I only went to see him because we wanted to get a new bed....).

For some time I'd had what I took to be 'normal' waterworks problems for a man in his late sixties. This man.  A bit of 'urgency' (almost getting taken short) and 'frequency' (going a bit too often) and the occasional minor 'accident' (really getting taken short). You don't want to get a new bed if there's a risk of leakage, so I thought I'd better give the doctor a call, after all I hadn't seen him for years. I'm just getting over a bad back and now this. 

We've gone to meet an old friend in Brighton. The weather is fine and we're having a lovely time. I'm feeling kind of floaty and numb and waves of emotion are sweeping around, over and through me. Apart from my wife, she is the first person I've mentioned all this to, and from the look on her face it appears that I might actually be in serious trouble. I feel somewhat detached from reality. 

On top of that, in two days ~ September 4th ~ it's the anniversary of the death of our daughter Annabel; always a difficult and heart-rending time. In three days ~ September 5th ~ it's my birthday. Never been a great fan of birthdays! In eight days ~ September 10th ~ I will have a whole battery of tests in Portsmouth. This will tell us If I have stage one, two or three of prostate cancer or that there's something else going on and the results will present me with a number of options. 'Watch and wait', medication, radiotherapy, an operation or an as yet to be decided approach involving a whole collection of things.... or maybe it's a false alarm? I'm told to keep the next two months free!

It's alright I suppose ~ I mean, nothing's happening yet ~ right now ~ and I will take each day as mindfully as I can, and as best I can, directly experience it all. Except it's not quite what I had in mind for the foreseeable future! Just got a new bike ~ treated myself to an electric one ~ been meaning to for years.... perfect timing!

Let's see what happens eh? What else can I do? I don't want this to define or change me and my life forever, but who knows? My plan is to carry on being strong, keeping up with all connections, and involvements with family, friends and everyone, and work at staying as fit as I can while I can, whenever I can. And see what unfolds....Wish me luck!

Health Bulletins ~ Are You Well?

In the spirit of mindful sharing ~ please don't feel you have to read this stuff ~ here is an ongoing record of all the experiences I've had since discovering a few months ago in August 2018 that I'm blessed with an impressively large prostate gland and consequently as a result, I have urinary retention. 

Doesn't sound like a fun read, but I like to be mindful in everyday life and say it how it is ~ the good, the bad, the funny and sad.  

So whether you are male or female, you have health issues and are actively availing yourself of a Health Care Service, or you are in your prime, never give it a second thought or perhaps might reflect on your future health one day.... this is definitely a mindful experience to be aware of. 

Read on to the Bulletins above, if you'd like to be amused and know more.... and you're not easily upset or offended!

What's It All About?

Every so often I go through a kind of crisis of I don’t know what—confidence maybe? Existence perhaps? I don’t know, but anyway these feelings come and go in waves.  They say when you retire, you should only do the things you want to do—only the things you really like, and perhaps have never had time for.  And I often ask myself, what is that? What is it that I really want to do? Today I went to the gym and spoke to two people separately I haven’t seen for a while—it was a pleasure and made me smile, ferried someone around to the shops and to catch a train, watched on TV a bit of ‘The World at War’ and saw for the millionth time how the Allies fared on D-Day, did some work on my bike, thought in anticipation about the meeting I was going to have that evening with someone from one of my mindfulness courses, prepared for my next evening course session, did some emails, wondered why some people reply really quickly and others don’t—and started to write this post.

And a clock is ticking steadily and loudly in front of me—and behind me too (there are two clocks in the room, and if you’re mindful of the echoing sound they make, it’s like a slow, metronomic, mesmeric rally in an unwinnable tennis match!), vehicles are passing by quickly and airily, rubber-to-road outside as people rush to get where they’re going, a picture smiles back at me capturing a moment of happy relief in our garden on the day all those years ago when me and my wife actually finished our degree courses—an original ‘selfie’ taken by camera on timer with old-fashioned tripod—and I can still feel the joyful moments now as I look at us and the girls framed by flowers and greenery, then I’m noticing my desk is a mess but not too bad, seeing there’s an old tape-measure there too and I’m wondering what it’s for, and in the next instant, I have the flashing image in mind from this morning, of me on my bike flying round a blind-bend and feeling really stupid because for the first time in ages I hadn’t rung my bell and there were loads of people and kids on the pathway there! Brake…. smile and mouth ‘....Sorry....!!’ comically, and glide on by. Another catastophe that didn’t happen. And I’m just hearing outside what I think is a child in distress crying, and looking fairly urgently and warily out of the window, I see clearly that it’s actually two boys larking around having great fun with a football, really enjoying themselves in all their ‘boy-ness’. Big smile to this!

And all these noticings and reflections are my life! The life I question, have crises about and don’t know what to do with. Come to think of it, the life I’ve always had crises about, always questioned and always didn’t know what to do with. Well it happened anyway, and thankfully it’s still happening now. All those bits of awareness and fragments of a life that tell me I exist—that tell me I’m here, that I showed up and was present for these moments, big and small, good and not so good at all—hooray—I am here!

I’m sure I had an idea in mind when I started to write this post, but can’t for the life of me think what it was. The mini-wave crisis of confidence and existence seems thankfully to have passed (temporarily I'm sure). And at this moment, I'm mindful of a whole new world visually, because I just picked up from the opticians my new prescription lense glasses! I can see a little more clearly and brightly now, and of course I suppose that's it, I am clearly doing what I want to do, and I am clearly doing what I like (at least some of the time) and this is it, this is my life. 

In any case, stuff like this that happens and that unfolds from moment-to-moment that I’m truly here for—and sometimes fully awake to and aware of—is far more interesting than the complications my mind wants to make of it all. The simple stuff, the trivial stuff, the mundane, the routine, the boring.... plus the disturbing, the worrying, the draining.... the uplifting, the changing, the exciting..... the rich mindful noticings of all this. It doesn’t matter what it is—it’s all the stuff of Life. These noticings are what it's all about. 

Let's celebrate that with all our senses.

And I love the fact the old tape measure's got 'Cosmos' written on it.

I thought I was still 25

There is so much pain and suffering in the World and I think to myself how lucky I am that I don’t suffer all the time. Since last September though, I’ve often experienced a bit too much pain for comfort—it’s a fact! Pain in the back and leg, pain in the eye, pain in various joints—and aside from the physical pain—quite a bit of emotional pain too. This last one goes hand in hand with the actual pain—they come together as a package. Can’t do much about it of course, except live with it. Well, that’s not exactly true, because just like we all do, I have tried to get rid of it or at least make it less troublesome. I’ve seen a chiropractor, a physiotherapist, various doctors and an eye surgeon. I’ve also taken more eye drops and pain-killers (why do we call them that?) than ever before.

Thankfully, and blissfully, at this moment, there is what Thich Nhat Hanh refers to with a whistful sigh..... as….. ‘the absence of pain’.

He says this with—as I distinctly recall, a beautiful half-smile—or at least he did until recently when in his 80’s he had a stroke. He is recovering now and they say his smile is coming back—although he can’t speak again yet. I wonder if he is able to be mindful of his moment-to-moment experience now. 

I do hope so.

Some of the time I’m grateful to be mindful of all this pain. It does remind me that I’m alive. I hope I ‘practice what I preach’ in guiding others to directly turn towards the pain themselves in the moment and over time look deeply to notice how the sensory qualities of the pain change in intensity, together with all the thoughts and feelings that accompany the pain. Just Noticing, Observing and Witnessing. When I tell people I do this myself, for example when visiting the dentist, or when having the eye operation recently at the hospital—as an ‘opportunity to be mindful’—they often laugh and say I’m a masochist! I don’t think I am—I find the experience neither pleasurable nor painful. Well not as painful as it might be if I weren’t being mindful anyway. I should add that I don’t want to be a pain—the pain by itself is real enough—I just don’t want to add to it. But I know that I can be a pain some of the time. I’m sorry for that—please forgive me. Not being able to do things like go to the gym, ride my bike, or play as much with the grand kids can be very tiresome, frustrating and irritating. So plenty to be mindful of there. 

Bit by bit, I hope I can recover some of the ability to be as active as before, but to be honest in darker moments, my biggest fear is that maybe this is it and I’ll have to accept any limitations just as they are. I suppose that does happen naturally anyway—accepting limitations that is. Like fading eyesight concealing the ravages of time—nature can sometimes have a way of letting us down gently. So it was a bit of a shock recently after having a cloudy lense in my eye replaced with a crystal clear one. Blimey!! The brightness and the colour and the sharpness and…. and…. is that me?! Oh heck, I thought I was still 25.

~~~Seaside Dip ~ English Summer~~~

That's me with the hat on, drifting by in the background.

Sandown Isle of Wight August 2014

_~~~Seaside Dip _~o~ English Summer_~~~

 

 Standing staring freezing

Thigh high choking

Bravely stepping wading

Waist water closing


Crooked elbows bracing


Finger tips testing


Eying swells encroaching


Bouncing joking grimacing

Chuckling ducking bobbing

Still standing looking…..

August-flipping cold!

That final dunking

Put off ever-lasting

Over trunks and trunking

Now fast chilling

Down forward dropping

Tipping falling toppling 


No way backing

Shocking submerging


Flat under smirking

Head-up holding

_~o~


Ahhrghh! I'm in!!

Waaaaayyyyy!!!

Log floating


Slight un-stiffening

Possibly relaxing

Gliding swaying


Swaythe waving


Not so chilling


Broad grin dashing

_~o~

Turning noticing

 Ooops…. disappearing!

_~~~Distant specs (do not) ashore_~~~


Bottom touching?

Nope, far out manning


Below water lining

Delicious dawning


Fear arising


No returning

Sensing daring


Flirting skirting

Somewhat hurting

Life endangering

Beyond the pale

Ah well returning

Back a-lying

Feet churning

Sky burning

Arms turning

Shore’s rim reaching

Seaweed clinging

Sand stone lapping

Semi-surfing

Cool arriving

_~~~Laying_~~~staying_~~~resting_~~~peace_~~~

 (Back on the Beach)

Sh-sh-shivering

Towels wrapping

Drinking coughing

Teeth chattering

Chips fattening

Salty sanding

Hypo-therming

Lolling laughing

Happy happening

Family sharing

_~~~Seeing_~~~enjoying_~~~belonging_~~~being_~~~

_~~~Living_~~~

<sub>~o~o~o~o~o~


Colin Eveleigh</sub>

A Mindful Day Out

Beautiful day out with my wife, daughter and the grand kids. Lunch at a café under the railway arches in Southsea on the Hard. Bit dubious about eating here because the sign on the wall didn’t look very welcoming for vegetarians. Noticed myself not being able to read the menu very well. I think it was because I expected everything to be burgers, so I was kind of distracted. As I settled a little, several veggie options came into focus. They had been there all the time but my mind wouldn’t see them. And it was a great lunch enjoyed by all, with the added dimension of the low roar and bumpy vibrations of the trains going overhead! 

Afterwards, me and the kids went to the dockyard on the water in a little electric ‘nee-naw’ boat. My grandson calls anything with a flashing blue light a nee-naw, and this was a Police boat. There was a wheel to steer and a switch to control the speed of the engine and a switch for the light. Both kids wanted to steer, and I said I would see how it went and then they could have a go. There were several other little boats in the water basin, mostly being driven by grown-ups. It was interesting! I felt pretty confident as we set off. ‘Steer….. steady, straight, straight, steady, steady …….’turning a little’….. ‘out of control; out of control’……‘Steer….. steady, straight, straight, steady, steady……‘ ‘turning a little…… ‘out of control; out of control’. That’s how it went!!  You had to have the experience of a seasoned sea captain of a huge ocean-going tanker to be able to anticipate what would actually happen when you steered a little to the left or a little to the right, or put on or took off any speed or cut the engine altogether. Oh and we did have reverse too, but we never tried reverse—everything was a bit too hectic and too complicated for that.  

On my own—he says confidently—I’m sure I could have mastered it with some panache pretty quickly, but with an 8 and a 2 and half year old, it was a little tricky to say the least. Trying to avoid going into a wall or another family boat, or a buoy or a blow-up tunnel was fun though—especially when we bumped into the lighthouse—they thought that was hilarious. ‘Let me have a go Gaga!’, says Romily.’ ‘Let Romily have a go’, says me to Dexter. ‘No!!’ says Dexter, ‘Don’t want to!’…… ‘OK then…..’After a while, I went aft as it were, and got an agreement that we could work together as a crew. Romily moved the engine lever up and down by clicks, and Dexter held the wheel, with me trying to anticipate and turn it when we needed to.   

Amazingly, there were no upsets—I was very mindful of the potential for upsets, and tried as best I could to prevent things from kicking-off (and I didn’t get upset once!). 

What I noticed mostly was the strong urge I had to want to control everything and just do it all…… and letting go of that, so I had the space to be mindful, and so they could see what would happen when they did something or forgot to do things…. And I didn’t turn it into a lesson either—it was just a bit of fun. We did get pretty smooth running in the end and anyhow, now we’ve got our sea legs, I think we’ll do it again! It is great fun and there is a lot to be mindful of in quite an amusing way.

I'm Old ~ It's Official!!

Whenever you tell him where something is—predictably—my grandson says, ‘I can’t see it!’. If it’s not immediately visible to him, and he can’t see it, he can’t believe it exists—he’s two and a half. I’m a bit older and I'm still inclined to the same way of ‘seeing is believing’. 

Some things we don’t want to see or hear at all. 

Like the ophthalmologist has just told me I have age-related cataracts. Apparently, you can get cataracts at a young age too, but I will soon be (gulp!!) 65, and that’s when they could become a nuisance. I can mostly see fog from my right eye—a bit like this…... 

‘You can get it fixed—it depends on your ‘Life Style’—the ophthalmologist said drily. I thought, ‘What kind of life style would I need to have where it didn’t matter that I could only see fog?!’ Perhaps I could become a weather man spotting fog. Any fog I spotted that was worse than mine would immediately warrant an alert! 

To be honest, I ummed and ahhed about posting this note to you all and wondered why. It’s kind of obvious really. Vanity(?) and the mind doesn’t want to be associated with its failing host—the body. Put it another way, the Self—‘I’—don’t want to admit to getting older. Or, let’s be truthful, getting old—but it’s a fact. One that’s quite hard to sit with and face. But it is true. My eyes tell me that and my aches and pains give me little reminders too. Mostly I’m alright with it—and in any case what can I do about these facts of life anyway?

I suppose it helps that at present for me it’s a gradual decline. That way maybe the mind and body hopefully will slowly adjust to one another. But I don’t know what it would be like if things were a bit more sudden though, as they are for some people. Maybe I’ll find out—maybe not—all in good time. And how long will that be? I don’t know. So I’d better get on with it—including the uncertainty of whenever or whatever it is—and make the most of what I’ve got now. I like the idea of ‘getting on’ with things—it’s what we say when we’re getting busy, and it can also mean ‘getting along’ with, as in having a good relationship with, let’s say ‘others’ or ‘myself’. 

It reminds me..... I do need to be a friend to myself, and there are so many things I can give thanks for.

The Best of Both Worlds

I’ve just returned from a very special bike ride. It was an interesting trip and as part of it I stayed for a night and a day at a monastery for Retreat.  I was there before some 44 years previously on Retreat with a friend. It seems an impossibly long time ago, and I remember the week with great fondness. One day after a big summer storm, we were down at the monastery’s private beach and I found a washed up huge wicker elliptically-shaped boat-fender attached to a rope.

On a whim (or should that be on a limb?) I tied it to a dead tree which hung over the water and with my shoes and socks off and jeans rolled up over my knees, splashing around, digging up handfuls of clay, I found myself slapping the clay joyfully on to the hanging fender, where pretty soon a large face began to form. As I remember it, as far as human faces go it was quite grotesque, but fun anyway. I really enjoyed myself and each day after that I went back to the beach to see how the face had weathered. By the end of the week it had completely transformed and was sagging somewhat (especially the mouth) with the weight of water and clumps of seaweed—it became ‘out of this world’ and I loved it.

The point of the story is, the other day I wanted to spend some quiet time on this same beach just to see if I could experience the memory and the joy again—to rekindle the feelings.  In the process, I nearly missed the here and now real-life opportunity to experience directly everything there was to experience right there and then. In fact as it turned out, I got the best of both worlds. Not only was there the joyful memory, but also there was the joy of actually being there and being able to see, hear, touch, taste and smell everything that was there on the beach, that was happening as it happened.  And the truth is that that particular direct experience was amazing and terrific too. I’m really glad I was able to recall and let go of the previous memory, and at the same time be present to experience all the other stuff too, to make a new memory. This time amongst many other things, I had the joy of making something else to leave on the beach—an arrangement of a few stones to sit on. To sit on and reflect. Which I did a lot.

At the end of my Retreat when I was leaving, one of the monks said to me ‘You’ll come back and see us again?’  ‘Hmm…’ I replied. And then with a wry smile he added, ‘Maybe in another 44 years?!’ There’s a lesson in that too.