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.:. Many Buddhists 20 Many Buddhists are marching along our road. More Buddhists than on other days. Most days there is only one, a solitary pilgrim in robes banging his drum down the hill in the morning, back up in early evening. In town our Buddha-to-be sits with begging bowl beneath a tree and prays with anyone who will. Many do. Many join him and chant the lovely summer day away, craving nothing. They follow the Lesser Vehicle, Great Vehicle, Diamond Vehicle and their long suffering they leave behind. That's the idea. Some unlucky days we miss entirely their passing and the rhythm of our day stretches toward them, tense until they appear to relax us. Today there are many, many. More than we ever hoped for. A traveling show along the shoulder of the road, with prayer flags and a drum, some in robes, others looking odd looking so normal, everyone a Buddhist! As they tramp toward town, on her lawn a little child is clapping, happy, happy- from a startling white pagoda on a hill not far from here the Noble Eightfold Path runs right past her house, right before her eyes. 21 ...

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