Meditating with the sages, musky odors of earth and roots and burning herbs. Sitting where the golden leaves of the boddhi tree fall around, illumining the sacred spaces and shining the brilliance of a million lanterns yet cooling with the silver glow of moon slivers. I bathe in the underground river that never ceases and tastes like sweet wine and calls me to dance. . .I drink and dance and collapse and am carried downstream lightly toward the source.
A home for dreams. A place of sanctuary. Where would yours be? When the question was asked, I was taken to a temple beneath trees, like those being reclaimed by the jungles in Cambodia. Hunting for images I found this one of a saint dreaming of the Boddhisatva, found in an much worn 1913 book, The Myths of the Hindus and Buddhists. Pieces of the story of the Six Tusked Elephant served to fortify the structure of the tree temple. What better sanctuary than the core of a living thing?