San Francisco

Today, I fly to San Francisco, to my Paulist home, where the guys say that they miss me.  All the time that I am away, they do not forget me, but miss me.  This is the wonder of community living.  It is a bonding that is more than living in the same building or apartment house.  The Paulists on my floor are more than "neighbors."  We pick up on conversations as if we have not been so distant in time and miles.  I feel "at home."  In Boulder and at the monastery, I am the guest of someone, there with permission from the pastor or abbot.  The Snowmass monastery is most like the Paulist community where I live in San Francisco.  The monks say, "Welcome home," when I arrive.  I fit in easily, and feel part of the lifestyle and life there.  I think that the key is small ego.  As I age I find that mine is getting smaller.  Where this is so, I seem to fit in better.