Joanna had often told me about Prajnaparamita, Mother of all Buddhas, the field of natural, awake awareness out of which all Buddhas arise. Swiftly our meditation expanded out into the vast ocean-like field of awareness itself. “Feel awareness as body, awareness as heart, heart as awareness,” I said. Then we moved into the resonance of the heart and then widened our attention to the body-as-a-whole, and then to the resonance of awareness itself. The meditation began with a felt sense of the body. She smiled at me, “Let’s do a meditation together.” “Yes, there are still things I want to do,” Joanna answered. I said, “The earth still wants you here.” “They feel as though they are hugging me from both sides.” Let’s look out on those beautiful redwood trees,” she continued. “I am so glad to be alive at this time,” she said softly, breathing with difficulty.
And yet, my friend’s eyes looked bright and spirited and her smile warmed up the room. In her 94th year, Joanna Macy, the Buddhist scholar and environmental and social activist, looked frail with tubes hanging from her hospital gown giving a sense of foreboding.
Rain ran down the large hospital window as thick clouds enveloped the Berkeley hills on a cold afternoon.
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