At last Wednesday's Awakin Circle, we heard the remarkable story of Dacher's encounter with the geese -- and his subsequent research on awe.

I was in Bhutan with my dear friend, Lief. We were in a little village that revolved around these snow geese that migrate to Bhutan. They're big birds. The villagers see them, they name them, they each have individual identities. The whole village revolves around them, and they have this great relationship to them. They're these big, beautiful birds, and I think there are only 5,500 in the world. They migrate to Siberia. As we were about to head to this monastery to visit this Buddhist monastery, people were telling us, "Well, you know, this monastery is special because when the birds migrate to Siberia, they fly up through this valley and they go seven miles away to this monastery, and then they fly around the prayer pole three times and then go off to Siberia." My friend and I are like, "I love these legends." You know, "Isn't this remarkable, what the human mind comes up with?" :) We drive up this road through this canyon, and we hop in to see this monastery. We were meditating a little, hearing the music and visiting -- and that was incredible in its own right. Then, all of a sudden, we start hearing these call of these birds, very loud calls. The monks, they get all their best instruments, they get into their prayer hall, they're chanting deep, low-octave chants with beautiful instruments. We're like, "What's going on?" And they said, "The birds are coming." My friend and I are right there, and the birds come in a beautiful pattern, and they fly around the prayer pole three times, and, being the skeptical scientist, I documented each circumnavigation around the prayer pole. I was like, "Click, that's one, click, two, click three." Then, they go off to Siberia. I was like, "You're kidding me." It changed my life.

It reminded of a similar story that happened when J. Krishnamurti passed away ...

A grey hearse backed up to the walkway under the pepper tree at precisely 8.30am. Two men in black suits brought a brown cardboard box and a gurney into the cottage and proceeded to carefully lift the body and place it in the opened box. Several of us stood silently at full attention. The box on the gurney was taken slowly down the rough granite walkway to the waiting car. At the precise moment the body went under the pepper tree, a formation of eight Canadian geese crossed above the tree heading west by northwest in the light of the clear morning. several cars were at the ready and took the Lilliefelts, Forbes, Dr. Parchure, Chandamal, Mahesh Saxena, the new secretary of the KFI, and me in a procession behind the hearse. Mary sat with the box in the hearse, as she had promised Krishnamurti to be with him till the end. Heading down through Ojai avenue and through the village, great flocks of White seagulls hovered above the hearse for several miles, traveling at the same speed. we could see this from our vantage point two cars behind. It didn't seem strange or unusual that something so natural, geese and gulls, knew the importance of what had happened that day and escorted the body of Krishnamurti out of the valley.

(Source: Knocking at the Open Door, My years with J. Krishnamurti, by Mark Lee, Page 271)