On Saturday I went for another walk up Ling Kok Shan by the steep north path, and down the concrete steps to the east, then around through Mo Tat Wan back home. It took about two and a half hours. My feet were sore afterwards – only because of the concrete steps and paths, not the climb itself.
When I got to the top, the russet brown and rich green foliage in late afternoon sun, the breeze cold on sweaty skin, Hong Kong island lying fully exposed in pale milky blue, cargo ships lying at anchor to the south of Lamma, waves crawling into the beach at Tung O, gave me the feeling of a grand love affair or a classic story that you read and never want to end; of being in unity with all places and all times. I looked down to where the sea was meeting the rocks and the tumbling verdure at a cove out to the east between Mo Tat Wan and Tung O, and felt that I hope (and maybe expect) that I will see that sight again in my mind’s eye when I am dying.
It was blissful, and tonight in recalling it I realise again that bliss is everywhere, always, waiting for me to let myself experience it.
‘If the doors of perception were cleansed, everything would appear to man as it is, infinite.’ William Blake
