Friday, August 11, 2006

Wrong rice

I'd arranged, with Nina, that the Rinpoche do a blessing for my house.

I was rattled by the snakeskin-in-the-basement encounter. Also, this house is so full of things (from Mom's house, Mimi's, other-people's via estate sales, travels), and beginning to fill with memories too, that it seems almost precarious to continue on without a blessing.

I want it off on the karmic-foot.

But I hadn't realized Rinpoche would require rice for the puja: to bless then toss to the house's far corners.

Anyway, thought I had rice.

I didn't have the right rice. Not being a rice cook (or cook at all), my pantry was stocked with broken basmati - bought for the coolness of the gunny-sac packaging and as a prop for Circa Trade.

Lobsang was frankly shocked I think but we salvaged with the contents of a Near East Pilaf-Mix box. But not the same seeing your own rice, with dehydrtaed orzo pasta amidst the grains, all about.

In short, happy to have house blessed but my own rice failings took some of the power from the ceremenony. There was a distance between me and the mystic-unfamiliar not achieved.


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