New Subwiki: Field notes - 21st Century

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Love is all there is, says the song.

Love is compassion in action, says a Buddhist lama who teaches near here.

On this damp warm evening of this very wet spring, feeding the chickens, I repeatedly fail to feel compassion for the eager mosquitos who seek a blood meal to be able to lay their eggs. They seem to view me as a moving feast, as they buzz delightedly around my ears, calling their sisters to come share the resource. I wonder if they love me or not. If I let them suck my blood in spite of the immediate sting and the days of itching welts that will come later, do they feel gratitude?

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