Dharma Friends

I really should learn to trust that the Universe is looking out for me.

It never ceases to amaze me that the right people seem to turn up at the right place and the right time. Just when I need them most.

Last week, while doing two things that scare me -- driving on the highway and infiltrating a group where I knew not a soul -- I was assigned a passenger for my little red Suzuki Swift (Lady Bug) by the group I was infiltrating.

It could have been a horror. But it decidedly was not.

I liked him on sight. He was sweet, gentle and an excellent conversationalist. He also couldn't read a map to save his life, which endeared him to me immediately, since this is also a skill that I have failed to master.

Despite directions that said, in all caps, IF YOU'RE IN ORILLIA, YOU'VE GONE TOO FAR, we went to far.

We were fortunate enough to lose our way and end up in the parking lot at the Stephen Leacock House. I've never been there. Now I have.

Anyway, not long into our trip, we discovered a remarkable commonality. We've both been lifelong meditators. Dharma friends, if you will. His proclivities fall to the teachings of Thich Nhat Hanh, while I've done more work in the Tibetan and Burmese traditions. We shared some Zen experience, as well.

Throughout our week together, we met many times and even meditated together one morning. On our return journey, he invited me to an upcoming meditation retreat.

I hope I don't forget this. "The gift of the Dharma surpasses all gifts," as that old Dhammapada says. It really does.