This article was excerpted from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . . ” an occasional e-mail missive from Iron Knot Ranch.
Appearances arise and appearances dissolve. Things come and go. Back at the ranch a lot has come and some has gone since our last missive to you folks elsewhere, and as always one hardly knows where to begin.
Guru Rinpoche came, in all manner of ways, and now resides quite visibly two miles north of the county road, on a hillside facing east over southern New Mexico. . . . As many of you know, it has always been the aspiration of Lama Shenpen to build a life-size statue of Guru Rinpoche on our little patch of nowhere. . . . It is said that to play even the slightest part in building such a statue is a source of inconceivable blessing and purification; the very environment in which a statue is completed becomes sacred and the beings there are brought into the sphere of Guru Rinpoche’s compassionate intention. In short, the world in which such an image is created is forever changed.
Just the same, there’s not a one of us who could tell you exactly how it came to pass, as up to the last moment it all seemed like such an impossibility. After months of preparation, after two incredibly generous visits by Tulku Jigme Rinpoche, who performed the preparatory ceremonies and consecrations, after hundreds and hundreds of hours of work by folks from all over, after all this, . . . H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche arrived and in five marathon days completed the first Guru Rinpoche statue in the Southwest. And the world is different because of it.
Working alongside Rinpoche was like entering a dream, experienced by most of us through various layers of exhaustion. Though one can record the external events, what happens in the mind is the heart of the story and is simply impossible to tell. There he was, four in the morning, carving in half-set concrete beneath kerosene lanterns on a hillside in rural New Mexico. Stars and moon and planets whirling above while Guru Rinpoche sculpts his own reflection.
Within hours of his arrival everyone was doing everything. Matt was creating a lotus throne out of sandstone, John was forming up an arching nimbus, Tom was casting vajras in Styrofoam cups, and Daisy, just arrived from Santa Fe, was manifesting a second armature with mortar and metal lath. If we didn’t have it, whatever it was, Rinpoche invented it. The cooks ferried meals from a kitchen over three rocky miles away, visitors gathered crystals for the lotus throne from the surrounding ground, Lama Tenzin and her spontaneously arisen cadre carved flowing silk in Portland cement, people did things they didn’t know how to do. And everyone kept on doing, sometimes ’round the clock, by daylight, by lantern light, by headlight, by flashlight, by moonlight. It wasn’t so much five days as it was a single moment that lasted five days.
No one worked harder than Rinpoche and yet he hardly seemed to move. The activity wove in and around him. It arose from him, just as the statue did. In the clarity of his presence the dream of this life became apparent . . . to be there was to be enveloped by his compassion, wisdom, and skillful teaching.
We will never be able to repay his kindness, will never be able to describe how something that should have taken weeks, if not months, to complete was accomplished in five days. But we recommend to anyone, come and see for yourself. There is work yet to finish: the painting and a roof to build. But spend some days and nights in the presence of Guru Rinpoche and feel for yourself the imprint Rinpoche has left there.
Well, so much for what has come. Now on to what has gone. Many of you have already heard of the Great Dakini Day Fire of November 2nd. A mouse kicked over a butter lamp (perhaps) and started a bit of a blaze. Our L.A. freeway dog Yeshe woke those at the ranch just before midnight and alerted them to the smoke drifting down from the shrine room.
There wasn’t much to do about it. Within minutes, the hundred-year-old headquarters, pretty as a picture and dry as a tinderbox, was engulfed in flame. Our neighbor Larry and his nephew Slim, down from Montana for round-up, helped move the ranch trucks out of harm’s way. Larry, never one to want for words, summed it up eloquently, “Yep, that’s a fire.” By the time a truckload of us arrived from Silver City about 3:30 a.m., it was all but over, a glowing pile of embers and tin beneath a clear and star-filled sky, a slender horn of a moon, and not a breath of wind.
No one was injured and miraculously the fire didn’t spread beyond the confines of the yard. The flames did, however, leap to the adjacent mobile home, which had been serving as a bedroom, storage locker, and shower house. That went pretty quick too. It was a very hot fire, and quite effectively cleaned the slate for us
Though one can record the external events, what
happens in the mind is the heart of the story and
is simply impossible to tell.
We lost our shrine room, kitchen, and bathing facilities, as well as the personal effects of a number of ranch hands. . . . So we’re back to beans and dirt baths. Yet the prevailing sentiment is that the loss bore great blessings. We will rebuild, of course, only this time in a much more auspicious location near Guru Rinpoche. And seeing that we are now somewhat seasoned adobladeros, we will rebuild with fire-retardant adobe.
Thanks to all of you who have sent food, clothes, and shrine articles to replace those lost in the blaze, and to those of you who continue to send donations to help us rebuild. Incidentally, Ben lost just about everything he owned, including a number of musical instruments and most of his clothes. We were sifting through the debris the morning after the fire when he remembered that he had stored a box of clothes down in the barn. He ran off to see what had been spared and returned with the news that the box was full of neckties. So please let everyone know, Ben has plenty of ties.
We reckon that’s the long and short of it. As always, we hope this finds you well and good. Keep your boots out of trouble and the mice away from the butter lamps. And if impermanence doesn’t intervene, we would simply love to see you all . . . back at the ranch.
This article was excerpted from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . . ” an occasional e-mail missive from Iron Knot Ranch.
Appearances arise and appearances dissolve. Things come and go. Back at the ranch a lot has come and some has gone since our last missive to you folks elsewhere, and as always one hardly knows where to begin.
Guru Rinpoche came, in all manner of ways, and now resides quite visibly two miles north of the county road, on a hillside facing east over southern New Mexico. . . . As many of you know, it has always been the aspiration of Lama Shenpen to build a life-size statue of Guru Rinpoche on our little patch of nowhere. . . . It is said that to play even the slightest part in building such a statue is a source of inconceivable blessing and purification; the very environment in which a statue is completed becomes sacred and the beings there are brought into the sphere of Guru Rinpoche’s compassionate intention. In short, the world in which such an image is created is forever changed.
Just the same, there’s not a one of us who could tell you exactly how it came to pass, as up to the last moment it all seemed like such an impossibility. After months of preparation, after two incredibly generous visits by Tulku Jigme Rinpoche, who performed the preparatory ceremonies and consecrations, after hundreds and hundreds of hours of work by folks from all over, after all this, . . . H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche arrived and in five marathon days completed the first Guru Rinpoche statue in the Southwest. And the world is different because of it.
Working alongside Rinpoche was like entering a dream, experienced by most of us through various layers of exhaustion. Though one can record the external events, what happens in the mind is the heart of the story and is simply impossible to tell. There he was, four in the morning, carving in half-set concrete beneath kerosene lanterns on a hillside in rural New Mexico. Stars and moon and planets whirling above while Guru Rinpoche sculpts his own reflection.
Within hours of his arrival everyone was doing everything. Matt was creating a lotus throne out of sandstone, John was forming up an arching nimbus, Tom was casting vajras in Styrofoam cups, and Daisy, just arrived from Santa Fe, was manifesting a second armature with mortar and metal lath. If we didn’t have it, whatever it was, Rinpoche invented it. The cooks ferried meals from a kitchen over three rocky miles away, visitors gathered crystals for the lotus throne from the surrounding ground, Lama Tenzin and her spontaneously arisen cadre carved flowing silk in Portland cement, people did things they didn’t know how to do. And everyone kept on doing, sometimes ’round the clock, by daylight, by lantern light, by headlight, by flashlight, by moonlight. It wasn’t so much five days as it was a single moment that lasted five days.
No one worked harder than Rinpoche and yet he hardly seemed to move. The activity wove in and around him. It arose from him, just as the statue did. In the clarity of his presence the dream of this life became apparent . . . to be there was to be enveloped by his compassion, wisdom, and skillful teaching.
We will never be able to repay his kindness, will never be able to describe how something that should have taken weeks, if not months, to complete was accomplished in five days. But we recommend to anyone, come and see for yourself. There is work yet to finish: the painting and a roof to build. But spend some days and nights in the presence of Guru Rinpoche and feel for yourself the imprint Rinpoche has left there.
Well, so much for what has come. Now on to what has gone. Many of you have already heard of the Great Dakini Day Fire of November 2nd. A mouse kicked over a butter lamp (perhaps) and started a bit of a blaze. Our L.A. freeway dog Yeshe woke those at the ranch just before midnight and alerted them to the smoke drifting down from the shrine room.
There wasn’t much to do about it. Within minutes, the hundred-year-old headquarters, pretty as a picture and dry as a tinderbox, was engulfed in flame. Our neighbor Larry and his nephew Slim, down from Montana for round-up, helped move the ranch trucks out of harm’s way. Larry, never one to want for words, summed it up eloquently, “Yep, that’s a fire.” By the time a truckload of us arrived from Silver City about 3:30 a.m., it was all but over, a glowing pile of embers and tin beneath a clear and star-filled sky, a slender horn of a moon, and not a breath of wind.
No one was injured and miraculously the fire didn’t spread beyond the confines of the yard. The flames did, however, leap to the adjacent mobile home, which had been serving as a bedroom, storage locker, and shower house. That went pretty quick too. It was a very hot fire, and quite effectively cleaned the slate for us
Though one can record the external events, what
happens in the mind is the heart of the story and
is simply impossible to tell.
We lost our shrine room, kitchen, and bathing facilities, as well as the personal effects of a number of ranch hands. . . . So we’re back to beans and dirt baths. Yet the prevailing sentiment is that the loss bore great blessings. We will rebuild, of course, only this time in a much more auspicious location near Guru Rinpoche. And seeing that we are now somewhat seasoned adobladeros, we will rebuild with fire-retardant adobe.
Thanks to all of you who have sent food, clothes, and shrine articles to replace those lost in the blaze, and to those of you who continue to send donations to help us rebuild. Incidentally, Ben lost just about everything he owned, including a number of musical instruments and most of his clothes. We were sifting through the debris the morning after the fire when he remembered that he had stored a box of clothes down in the barn. He ran off to see what had been spared and returned with the news that the box was full of neckties. So please let everyone know, Ben has plenty of ties.
We reckon that’s the long and short of it. As always, we hope this finds you well and good. Keep your boots out of trouble and the mice away from the butter lamps. And if impermanence doesn’t intervene, we would simply love to see you all . . . back at the ranch.
This article was excerpted from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . . ” an occasional e-mail missive from Iron Knot Ranch.
Appearances arise and appearances dissolve. Things come and go. Back at the ranch a lot has come and some has gone since our last missive to you folks elsewhere, and as always one hardly knows where to begin.
Guru Rinpoche came, in all manner of ways, and now resides quite visibly two miles north of the county road, on a hillside facing east over southern New Mexico. . . . As many of you know, it has always been the aspiration of Lama Shenpen to build a life-size statue of Guru Rinpoche on our little patch of nowhere. . . . It is said that to play even the slightest part in building such a statue is a source of inconceivable blessing and purification; the very environment in which a statue is completed becomes sacred and the beings there are brought into the sphere of Guru Rinpoche’s compassionate intention. In short, the world in which such an image is created is forever changed.
Just the same, there’s not a one of us who could tell you exactly how it came to pass, as up to the last moment it all seemed like such an impossibility. After months of preparation, after two incredibly generous visits by Tulku Jigme Rinpoche, who performed the preparatory ceremonies and consecrations, after hundreds and hundreds of hours of work by folks from all over, after all this, . . . H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche arrived and in five marathon days completed the first Guru Rinpoche statue in the Southwest. And the world is different because of it.
Working alongside Rinpoche was like entering a dream, experienced by most of us through various layers of exhaustion. Though one can record the external events, what happens in the mind is the heart of the story and is simply impossible to tell. There he was, four in the morning, carving in half-set concrete beneath kerosene lanterns on a hillside in rural New Mexico. Stars and moon and planets whirling above while Guru Rinpoche sculpts his own reflection.
Within hours of his arrival everyone was doing everything. Matt was creating a lotus throne out of sandstone, John was forming up an arching nimbus, Tom was casting vajras in Styrofoam cups, and Daisy, just arrived from Santa Fe, was manifesting a second armature with mortar and metal lath. If we didn’t have it, whatever it was, Rinpoche invented it. The cooks ferried meals from a kitchen over three rocky miles away, visitors gathered crystals for the lotus throne from the surrounding ground, Lama Tenzin and her spontaneously arisen cadre carved flowing silk in Portland cement, people did things they didn’t know how to do. And everyone kept on doing, sometimes ’round the clock, by daylight, by lantern light, by headlight, by flashlight, by moonlight. It wasn’t so much five days as it was a single moment that lasted five days.
No one worked harder than Rinpoche and yet he hardly seemed to move. The activity wove in and around him. It arose from him, just as the statue did. In the clarity of his presence the dream of this life became apparent . . . to be there was to be enveloped by his compassion, wisdom, and skillful teaching.
We will never be able to repay his kindness, will never be able to describe how something that should have taken weeks, if not months, to complete was accomplished in five days. But we recommend to anyone, come and see for yourself. There is work yet to finish: the painting and a roof to build. But spend some days and nights in the presence of Guru Rinpoche and feel for yourself the imprint Rinpoche has left there.
Well, so much for what has come. Now on to what has gone. Many of you have already heard of the Great Dakini Day Fire of November 2nd. A mouse kicked over a butter lamp (perhaps) and started a bit of a blaze. Our L.A. freeway dog Yeshe woke those at the ranch just before midnight and alerted them to the smoke drifting down from the shrine room.
There wasn’t much to do about it. Within minutes, the hundred-year-old headquarters, pretty as a picture and dry as a tinderbox, was engulfed in flame. Our neighbor Larry and his nephew Slim, down from Montana for round-up, helped move the ranch trucks out of harm’s way. Larry, never one to want for words, summed it up eloquently, “Yep, that’s a fire.” By the time a truckload of us arrived from Silver City about 3:30 a.m., it was all but over, a glowing pile of embers and tin beneath a clear and star-filled sky, a slender horn of a moon, and not a breath of wind.
No one was injured and miraculously the fire didn’t spread beyond the confines of the yard. The flames did, however, leap to the adjacent mobile home, which had been serving as a bedroom, storage locker, and shower house. That went pretty quick too. It was a very hot fire, and quite effectively cleaned the slate for us
Though one can record the external events, what
happens in the mind is the heart of the story and
is simply impossible to tell.
We lost our shrine room, kitchen, and bathing facilities, as well as the personal effects of a number of ranch hands. . . . So we’re back to beans and dirt baths. Yet the prevailing sentiment is that the loss bore great blessings. We will rebuild, of course, only this time in a much more auspicious location near Guru Rinpoche. And seeing that we are now somewhat seasoned adobladeros, we will rebuild with fire-retardant adobe.
Thanks to all of you who have sent food, clothes, and shrine articles to replace those lost in the blaze, and to those of you who continue to send donations to help us rebuild. Incidentally, Ben lost just about everything he owned, including a number of musical instruments and most of his clothes. We were sifting through the debris the morning after the fire when he remembered that he had stored a box of clothes down in the barn. He ran off to see what had been spared and returned with the news that the box was full of neckties. So please let everyone know, Ben has plenty of ties.
We reckon that’s the long and short of it. As always, we hope this finds you well and good. Keep your boots out of trouble and the mice away from the butter lamps. And if impermanence doesn’t intervene, we would simply love to see you all . . . back at the ranch.
This article was excerpted from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . . ” an occasional e-mail missive from Iron Knot Ranch.
Appearances arise and appearances dissolve. Things come and go. Back at the ranch a lot has come and some has gone since our last missive to you folks elsewhere, and as always one hardly knows where to begin.
Guru Rinpoche came, in all manner of ways, and now resides quite visibly two miles north of the county road, on a hillside facing east over southern New Mexico. . . . As many of you know, it has always been the aspiration of Lama Shenpen to build a life-size statue of Guru Rinpoche on our little patch of nowhere. . . . It is said that to play even the slightest part in building such a statue is a source of inconceivable blessing and purification; the very environment in which a statue is completed becomes sacred and the beings there are brought into the sphere of Guru Rinpoche’s compassionate intention. In short, the world in which such an image is created is forever changed.
Just the same, there’s not a one of us who could tell you exactly how it came to pass, as up to the last moment it all seemed like such an impossibility. After months of preparation, after two incredibly generous visits by Tulku Jigme Rinpoche, who performed the preparatory ceremonies and consecrations, after hundreds and hundreds of hours of work by folks from all over, after all this, . . . H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche arrived and in five marathon days completed the first Guru Rinpoche statue in the Southwest. And the world is different because of it.
Working alongside Rinpoche was like entering a dream, experienced by most of us through various layers of exhaustion. Though one can record the external events, what happens in the mind is the heart of the story and is simply impossible to tell. There he was, four in the morning, carving in half-set concrete beneath kerosene lanterns on a hillside in rural New Mexico. Stars and moon and planets whirling above while Guru Rinpoche sculpts his own reflection.
Within hours of his arrival everyone was doing everything. Matt was creating a lotus throne out of sandstone, John was forming up an arching nimbus, Tom was casting vajras in Styrofoam cups, and Daisy, just arrived from Santa Fe, was manifesting a second armature with mortar and metal lath. If we didn’t have it, whatever it was, Rinpoche invented it. The cooks ferried meals from a kitchen over three rocky miles away, visitors gathered crystals for the lotus throne from the surrounding ground, Lama Tenzin and her spontaneously arisen cadre carved flowing silk in Portland cement, people did things they didn’t know how to do. And everyone kept on doing, sometimes ’round the clock, by daylight, by lantern light, by headlight, by flashlight, by moonlight. It wasn’t so much five days as it was a single moment that lasted five days.
No one worked harder than Rinpoche and yet he hardly seemed to move. The activity wove in and around him. It arose from him, just as the statue did. In the clarity of his presence the dream of this life became apparent . . . to be there was to be enveloped by his compassion, wisdom, and skillful teaching.
We will never be able to repay his kindness, will never be able to describe how something that should have taken weeks, if not months, to complete was accomplished in five days. But we recommend to anyone, come and see for yourself. There is work yet to finish: the painting and a roof to build. But spend some days and nights in the presence of Guru Rinpoche and feel for yourself the imprint Rinpoche has left there.
Well, so much for what has come. Now on to what has gone. Many of you have already heard of the Great Dakini Day Fire of November 2nd. A mouse kicked over a butter lamp (perhaps) and started a bit of a blaze. Our L.A. freeway dog Yeshe woke those at the ranch just before midnight and alerted them to the smoke drifting down from the shrine room.
There wasn’t much to do about it. Within minutes, the hundred-year-old headquarters, pretty as a picture and dry as a tinderbox, was engulfed in flame. Our neighbor Larry and his nephew Slim, down from Montana for round-up, helped move the ranch trucks out of harm’s way. Larry, never one to want for words, summed it up eloquently, “Yep, that’s a fire.” By the time a truckload of us arrived from Silver City about 3:30 a.m., it was all but over, a glowing pile of embers and tin beneath a clear and star-filled sky, a slender horn of a moon, and not a breath of wind.
No one was injured and miraculously the fire didn’t spread beyond the confines of the yard. The flames did, however, leap to the adjacent mobile home, which had been serving as a bedroom, storage locker, and shower house. That went pretty quick too. It was a very hot fire, and quite effectively cleaned the slate for us
Though one can record the external events, what
happens in the mind is the heart of the story and
is simply impossible to tell.
We lost our shrine room, kitchen, and bathing facilities, as well as the personal effects of a number of ranch hands. . . . So we’re back to beans and dirt baths. Yet the prevailing sentiment is that the loss bore great blessings. We will rebuild, of course, only this time in a much more auspicious location near Guru Rinpoche. And seeing that we are now somewhat seasoned adobladeros, we will rebuild with fire-retardant adobe.
Thanks to all of you who have sent food, clothes, and shrine articles to replace those lost in the blaze, and to those of you who continue to send donations to help us rebuild. Incidentally, Ben lost just about everything he owned, including a number of musical instruments and most of his clothes. We were sifting through the debris the morning after the fire when he remembered that he had stored a box of clothes down in the barn. He ran off to see what had been spared and returned with the news that the box was full of neckties. So please let everyone know, Ben has plenty of ties.
We reckon that’s the long and short of it. As always, we hope this finds you well and good. Keep your boots out of trouble and the mice away from the butter lamps. And if impermanence doesn’t intervene, we would simply love to see you all . . . back at the ranch.
This article was excerpted from “Meanwhile, back at the ranch. . . ” an occasional e-mail missive from Iron Knot Ranch.
Appearances arise and appearances dissolve. Things come and go. Back at the ranch a lot has come and some has gone since our last missive to you folks elsewhere, and as always one hardly knows where to begin.
Guru Rinpoche came, in all manner of ways, and now resides quite visibly two miles north of the county road, on a hillside facing east over southern New Mexico. . . . As many of you know, it has always been the aspiration of Lama Shenpen to build a life-size statue of Guru Rinpoche on our little patch of nowhere. . . . It is said that to play even the slightest part in building such a statue is a source of inconceivable blessing and purification; the very environment in which a statue is completed becomes sacred and the beings there are brought into the sphere of Guru Rinpoche’s compassionate intention. In short, the world in which such an image is created is forever changed.
Just the same, there’s not a one of us who could tell you exactly how it came to pass, as up to the last moment it all seemed like such an impossibility. After months of preparation, after two incredibly generous visits by Tulku Jigme Rinpoche, who performed the preparatory ceremonies and consecrations, after hundreds and hundreds of hours of work by folks from all over, after all this, . . . H.E. Chagdud Rinpoche arrived and in five marathon days completed the first Guru Rinpoche statue in the Southwest. And the world is different because of it.
Working alongside Rinpoche was like entering a dream, experienced by most of us through various layers of exhaustion. Though one can record the external events, what happens in the mind is the heart of the story and is simply impossible to tell. There he was, four in the morning, carving in half-set concrete beneath kerosene lanterns on a hillside in rural New Mexico. Stars and moon and planets whirling above while Guru Rinpoche sculpts his own reflection.
Within hours of his arrival everyone was doing everything. Matt was creating a lotus throne out of sandstone, John was forming up an arching nimbus, Tom was casting vajras in Styrofoam cups, and Daisy, just arrived from Santa Fe, was manifesting a second armature with mortar and metal lath. If we didn’t have it, whatever it was, Rinpoche invented it. The cooks ferried meals from a kitchen over three rocky miles away, visitors gathered crystals for the lotus throne from the surrounding ground, Lama Tenzin and her spontaneously arisen cadre carved flowing silk in Portland cement, people did things they didn’t know how to do. And everyone kept on doing, sometimes ’round the clock, by daylight, by lantern light, by headlight, by flashlight, by moonlight. It wasn’t so much five days as it was a single moment that lasted five days.
No one worked harder than Rinpoche and yet he hardly seemed to move. The activity wove in and around him. It arose from him, just as the statue did. In the clarity of his presence the dream of this life became apparent . . . to be there was to be enveloped by his compassion, wisdom, and skillful teaching.
We will never be able to repay his kindness, will never be able to describe how something that should have taken weeks, if not months, to complete was accomplished in five days. But we recommend to anyone, come and see for yourself. There is work yet to finish: the painting and a roof to build. But spend some days and nights in the presence of Guru Rinpoche and feel for yourself the imprint Rinpoche has left there.
Well, so much for what has come. Now on to what has gone. Many of you have already heard of the Great Dakini Day Fire of November 2nd. A mouse kicked over a butter lamp (perhaps) and started a bit of a blaze. Our L.A. freeway dog Yeshe woke those at the ranch just before midnight and alerted them to the smoke drifting down from the shrine room.
There wasn’t much to do about it. Within minutes, the hundred-year-old headquarters, pretty as a picture and dry as a tinderbox, was engulfed in flame. Our neighbor Larry and his nephew Slim, down from Montana for round-up, helped move the ranch trucks out of harm’s way. Larry, never one to want for words, summed it up eloquently, “Yep, that’s a fire.” By the time a truckload of us arrived from Silver City about 3:30 a.m., it was all but over, a glowing pile of embers and tin beneath a clear and star-filled sky, a slender horn of a moon, and not a breath of wind.
No one was injured and miraculously the fire didn’t spread beyond the confines of the yard. The flames did, however, leap to the adjacent mobile home, which had been serving as a bedroom, storage locker, and shower house. That went pretty quick too. It was a very hot fire, and quite effectively cleaned the slate for us
Though one can record the external events, what
happens in the mind is the heart of the story and
is simply impossible to tell.
We lost our shrine room, kitchen, and bathing facilities, as well as the personal effects of a number of ranch hands. . . . So we’re back to beans and dirt baths. Yet the prevailing sentiment is that the loss bore great blessings. We will rebuild, of course, only this time in a much more auspicious location near Guru Rinpoche. And seeing that we are now somewhat seasoned adobladeros, we will rebuild with fire-retardant adobe.
Thanks to all of you who have sent food, clothes, and shrine articles to replace those lost in the blaze, and to those of you who continue to send donations to help us rebuild. Incidentally, Ben lost just about everything he owned, including a number of musical instruments and most of his clothes. We were sifting through the debris the morning after the fire when he remembered that he had stored a box of clothes down in the barn. He ran off to see what had been spared and returned with the news that the box was full of neckties. So please let everyone know, Ben has plenty of ties.
We reckon that’s the long and short of it. As always, we hope this finds you well and good. Keep your boots out of trouble and the mice away from the butter lamps. And if impermanence doesn’t intervene, we would simply love to see you all . . . back at the ranch.
