![]() ![]() ![]() Some of the women, though, like me, have their long hair wound upon their heads and covered with orange fabric. Slowly, dozens of women dressed the same way I am, in simple orange robes, cross the courtyard toward the main temple. From a nearby building, a gong is struck, the sound reverberating across the abbey. I rinse my hands with water from a nearby water pump and drink the cool, fresh water. ![]() I stand up, dust off my knees, and carry my basket of gardening supplies to a small work shed. It is summer, but here in the mountains, surrounded by trees, it is a cool and comfortable place. A bright ray of sunshine filters through the pine needles, and birds chirp as they jump from branch to branch. I sit on my heels and look around at the thick forest that isolates the abbey from the outside world. I look around, satisfied with my work planting a dozen chrysanthemum plants in different colors in a flowerbed along one side of the abbey where I have lived and worked for months. The sweet scent of the chrysanthemums I just planted fills my nose. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recoding, or otherwise, without the prior written consent of the author. ![]()
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