The day after it all -- the three-month Retreat and the three-day Monlam -- I am rejuvenated and grateful and calm and so, so tired. And if this day is supposed to feel different than day one or day fifty-six, it doesn't. The snow falling isn't any different than it was last week, or the week before; the daily routine of tea, baby cat feedings, and sadhana plays out just as it did every day of last month; being human is found in reminding myself to come from the centered place inside .. sometimes minute to minute as hours pass by.
There's a sense of completion the day after it all, and there is no possible way I can stop now. I've come this far to not just come this far! And so, I'll make a cup of tea for my teacher as an offering of thanksgiving alongside my own cup while I continue existing in this section of the charnel ground. The emptiness is filled with dakini as all five senses call to their own single-pointed attention; surviving has turned into thriving in some sort of equanimous way I cannot put into words; left step first to continue on.