Sublime

After transporting what looked like a dead, charred log to her distant garden, I saw a Matsigenka woman breathe life back into a hidden ember using a combination of dried moss, which she brought with her, and thermal reflection from other logs. I was also embarrassed when another young Matsigenka woman, with the requisite infant slung at her side,

buried deep within the meat of me my own bone-tree patiently waits.

But Markov was a man—a close friend—and now it was as if he had exploded, shattered into pieces by this brutal, frigid life. The task of gathering, of re-membering, was almost too much to bear so the men worked slowly, numb and mechanical. “Try to get all the bones,” mumbled Onofrecuk, more to himself than anyone else. “Let’s try to get as many as

DESPITE THE DISAPPEARANCE of the last of the original Mexican families (many of whom have been here five or ten generations—longer than any white), a new crop has arrived to fill their places.

impermanence, freedom, and deep kindness in our bones.

It was Prince Shotoku, second son of the emperor Yomei, whose work in founding monasteries has made his name synonymous with the founding of Buddhism in Japan, although it was to be many years before the Zen Buddhist movement gathered any real momentum.

Kesler and his people remained