Free

The chanting was compelling; the soft drumming more so.  It was a beautiful sunny day, our first in Sedona for this, our bi-annual sojourn.  We had walked up from the upper parking lot at the Buddhist Stupa.  There were more prayer flags than I remember in the past.  Familiar small ragged ones amidst the newer large ones.

As we reached the Stupa, the light drumming and vocal chanting drew us is.  I can't say why, other than the similar emotion felt when I smudge with sage.  An automatic reaction to a positive stimulus.  As the three souls created this audible magic, my girl and I drew seats on the platform, directly behind them.  Eyes closed, I focused on my breath as I took in the wonder.

The monk dressed in traditional garb, had done this once or twice before.  Her following of the words in her tattered book were clearly from memory.  Like clockwork, she would stand, leave the platform, and approach the Stupa, where the intentions and prayers of millions were inside, radiating their good will to those around.  She offered symbolic gifts and rituals before returning to her seat to continue the ceremony.

Feeling lucky to be a close witness to this unveiling, we also fell penned in as the three on the platform were now positioned so our departure was difficult at best.  So we sat.  We sat as the monk poured a liquid into the others as well as her own hands.  They would then slurp it up and put the rest on their heads.  This was followed by an offering of what appeared to be a plate of cookies for each. Evidently, Buddha was a fan of Fig Newtons.

Sensing an opportunity, my girl and I both stood and slipped away past the unintended blockade.  We were free of the platform, yes, but we also felt a bit freer knowing that the community is praying for us all.  Stronger from the brief encounter, we moved forward with the medicine, hopeful we can help others as we have been helped.