Tall skinny pine tree-tops stood in silhouette against the illuminated thin clouds — like minute hands pointing to noon on a clock. I was moving slowly. So slowly that each time I rounded the dagoba, the sun was in a new position relative to the tree tops. Which really meant that the earth was rotating relative to the sun and it felt oddly linked to my walking. Both grand and minuscule motions were rotating in harmony as I walked and each time I came around to find the earth had moved a little further. I felt light and grounded and part of the whole clockwork of the universe.

May we not be separated from the great happiness devoid of suffering.

I touched this once on retreat during the luminous heart-opening practice of tonglen and now it is a regular way of being. But when I first heard this Buddhist phrase (traditionally chanted to evoke compassion), I found it confusing. Incomprehensible, actually. One of my earliest memories is of walking in snow behind my father who was carrying my sleeping younger sister. He pointed out Orion, so visible in the winter night sky. The body, belt and, sword are hard to un-see once pointed out. I later learned that there is also a club in one raised hand and a shield thrust forward in the other hand. Orion is a hunter and clearly ready to fight and defend. This stance characterized much of my young adult life. This wasn't obvious to people from my calm and kind — and shy — exterior, but it characterized my inner life until at 33 a medical diagnosis changed my outlook on life and began a gradual process of opening to that great happiness.