Vermont Lerung

I stayed in a Vermont barn for three weeks and meditated. It was up in the mountains, overlooking a tranquil range of peaks. The sun rose over these peaks and set toward another mountain range. There were lightning storms, meteor showers, swirling vortexes of birds, blankets of Daddy Long leg spiders, and roiling dells of fog. The angels blessed the space.

Vermont is a plush green carpet rolled out of a few thousand miles. Then the carpet was scrunched and gathered by the winds to make the landscape. It's a tiny forest of mountains. When it's stretched out, Vermont has more square miles than Texas. But it remains -as of right now- a bunched scroll of green.

The wood furnace outback provided heat and hot water for the entire property. Smoke belched from its fiery mouth throughout the day and sent silver plumes over the thatched barn roof. At the top of the barn was one long room. This was where I stayed. The owner converted it into a yoga studio, but it sat mostly empty. I slept on a futon, ate simple green/beans/grains every day, and meditated four times a day according to Vajrayogini teachings in The Short Path of Bliss by Pabongka Rinpoche.

It was idyllic. I missed it as soon as the train left the station for New York. I will be back.

Vermont teems with hippies, burn-outs, idealist, gun enthusiasts, and socialist. They have found a place on God's green scroll.