More often than not, I end up spending some part of Memorial Day weekend at the New England Peace Pagoda.

It started as a way to hangout with a dear friend and then turned into an irregular habit and I now consider it the thing I do for Memorial Day.  This year, my friend couldn’t accompany me.  That’s okay.  I went on my own.

I parked at the bottom of the hill and was greeted by this friendly sign.  It’s always there.  It makes me happy.

And then I walked.  Really slowly.  Not meditatively (I left that for when I circumambulated the pagoda), but mindfully.

The air was so fresh.  The birds so loud.  The leaves so green.  The bark so textured.

The stones, as always, so multitudinous.

People were there.  Some were working, getting ready for a big event next Sunday (I won’t be able to go because I’ll be teaching 4th & 5th graders about Buddhism at the church where I work). Some were tourists, snapping photos with their smartphones or with their heavy-duty cameras.  (I brought my heavy-duty camera this time, that’s why you get so many photos…).

Some were pilgrims, Buddhists, speaking a language that indicated home, at least first home, was far away.

Everything was exquisite.

Peace to you on this and all other days.