Well, I never thought I’d say this, especially so close to Mother’s Day, but there’s really no other way to put it – my sainted mater has become a groupie. I don’t mean in an Almost Famous way; I’m pretty sure that was just a rumor about Bachman Turner Overdrive back in the day. But what else would you call it when tomorrow she’s going to join the throng at Gilette Stadium in Foxboro, MA, to see HH the Dalai Lama for, like, the 7th time? True. If you’re there in the morning, look for her in the tie-dye shirt bearing his likeness, twirling on the grass in barefoot abandon as he gives his discourse on the Four Noble Truths.
Update: It occurs to me that if my mother follows an individual, she can't technically be a groupie, can she? I retract the moniker and, really, hesitate to use the term stalker...
I’d love to join her, but I’m finally jetting back to the wild west. Gotta make a Monday appointment to accompany American students to the Gobi to lecture about Danzan Ravjaa; the earlier trip we were supposed to take was postponed due to a combination severe sand and snow storm. Well, at least there’s unlikely to be too many swine flu cooties running around out there.
I’m grateful to my sister for providing a remarkably calm and sane refuge for me post-India. This trip has been...educational, and I have to grind through some pretty raw data this month. My sister gains a lot of wisdom from addiction recovery literature. The other morning, she read me the following quote, that’s really been bouncing in the hopper: “You don’t have to suffer continual chaos in order to grow.” As one nutty Thai chef I used to work with often barked out, “Correct or incorrect?!”