Washing My Mother's Hair
Photo by Jeannie O'Connor We have been wandering since beginningless time in these samsaric worlds in which every being, without exception, has had relations of affection, enmity and indifference with every other being. Everyone has been everyone else's father and mother.
Patrul Rinpoche, (1808–1887), homeless wanderer Naked, standing by the tub, my almost ninety-three-year-old mother calls to me from the bathroom. “I’ll turn on the water,” she says,
