It is often said that time will heal all wounds. Ten of the 112 days have quietly passed, but only the pain is persistent. It is not easy for those who have never experienced a long journey by foot like this. Even those who have experienced it two or three times before still have to complain. Sometimes we sat together with a cup of tea and talked about our journey within these past days, and we also discussed the word “Impermanence.”

On the road, the lives of the less privileged have passed us by, the overflowing emotions and the anguish that this temporary body feels, is all of this Impermanent? YES! It is Impermanent. But Impermanence should be just the right amount; too much Impermanence is simply unreasonable — no one can stand that! Then we laugh together in the midst of an endless space of the arid land, burning grass, bare trees, dust and smoke.

Only the spotted white yellowish dog (spotty) is still keeping up with the group. The yellow dog has given up; maybe our time together must stop here. The road is still long, framed by craggy hills, filled with thorns; it’s unknown who’s still with us and who’s gone off. Therefore, the yellow dog bidding farewell to us is also normal according to the law of impermanence. Spotty is particularly smart, gets up on time, walks on time, runs here, wades there, but always goes in front with the leader of the Sangha. When he was tired, he lay down on the ground and rested for a minute, then got up and continued to walk, come what may. I stopped to pour water on my hand for him to drink, but he adamantly refused. Along the way, if he saw a puddle, he would stop to drink, regardless of sewage or dirty water. It’s pitiful, is this the result of his past kamma that now is bearing fruits? Along the way, everyone loved and gave him all kinds of sweets. He is very active and gentle, when he sees goats and cows, he stops to look. When he sees his fellow dogs, he approaches but usually gets growled at by them, so he would turn around to follow the monks for safety.

We stopped for lunch in a valley filled with yellow flowers. If you have been following along with the journals, you might say, “Yesterday, the monk talked about this yellow-flowered melaleuca species, it must be a forest of green trees that have not yet bloomed. Is there anything more noteworthy?”

Yes, the yellow Melaleuca in the hills have not bloomed, but the Melaleuca in the valley have yellow flowers in full bloom. The scenery can be described as poetic. Our brothers sat down to take lunch by a herd of cows, and cow dung was thrown into a big pile. Spotty also had his meal beside us and fell asleep when he was full. Looking at the herd of cows next to me, my childhood memories suddenly rushed back. Once upon a time when I was in the countryside, my family was poor, with many brothers and sisters, and I was the youngest. People often say, “The youngest inherits all the wealth,” but I did not see any. Every day, my friends and I rode the cows into the forest to feed the herd. We simply tied the cows to a tree for them to graze and went to a nearby graveyard to eat sticky rice and pudding that people offered to the dead. Then we went to pick date fruits, wild fruits, and watched weaver birds make nests. In the late afternoon, we’d bring the cows back,and our faces would be black, arms and legs muddy. Childhood is always innocent even though life is poor, isn’t it? We packed up for the road again, and later we took an early break at a field along the way to shower and shave our heads preparing for Pāṭimokkha (monk’s Disciplinary Rules) recitation tomorrow.

The land is vast and flat, with only a single prideful, enormous tree, its lush branches spreading out luxuriantly. As usual, the sound of the chant resounded throughout the empty field blended in the unbounded space of the dark night.

Source: Dhammacetiya
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