In transition again. I would like to be the Esk, just up-river of the naga house, always twirling and jumping and running, formless except where solid objects give it form. Actually, we’re always in transition, from one moment to the next; I can either offer myself to the flow or try to dam myself up against it. But the dam is in its own slow flow, year by year offering its body to the water. It's not really separate and discrete; it only looks that way to the observer who doesn't stay long.

For me, the heart of Samye Ling is not the temple, but the Esk, and the naga house on its grey stone island. This is where I find myself most deeply, in the body of living water.