Vijayasri called in on our friends near Valencia after Moksabunny had been with them a few weeks. He was looking very trim and had lost all his factory farm fatness. He had become fitter and energetically evaded capture each night and had them running around after him. He thumped his feet a lot and generally evinced character and spirit. Moksabunny enjoying his freedom! Later I heard he was becoming less nervous of people and starting to enjoy being stroked.

But shortly after I got a call that he had managed to slip under a fence at the far end of the orchard that was his playing field. He didn’t come back and within days Vidyasri had found furry remains. There are a number of foxes in the area to whom he would have made an easy dinner. One of them didn’t go hungry that night. I was sad to hear of his death although it wasn’t totally unexpected. Vidyasri does a lot of ritual involving nature and when she told me she was going to make something from the grey foot she found with the remains the thought went through my mind “But that’s Moksabunnys foot!” I’d got attached to him as a small furry presence in my life, one that I was sorry to have to let go of.

The following women were ordained in Dunkeld, Scotland on the 30 July.

Public Preceptor Padmasuri

Clare Barton-Harvey becomes AMITAJYOTI. She whose light is immeasurable/boundless. (Private preceptor Ratnavandana)

Dot McGahan becomes SURYAMATI (long “u”). She whose mind is like the sun. (Private preceptor Punyamala)

Gordana Avramovic becomes JNANESVARI (long first “a”, “s” pronounced “sh”). Queen, “noble lady” of knowledge. (Private preceptor Vajrapushpa)

Sue Ilsley becomes PRASADAMATI (long second and third “a”). She whose mind is bright, pellucid, kind and calm. (Private preceptor Vajrapushpa)

Agnes Verbon becomes DAYAPADMA (long second “a” and long last “a”). Lotus of kindness. (Private preceptor Vajragita).

Maureen Brandon becomes MOKSAVAJRI (”s” pronounced as “sh”, long “i”). Vajra of liberation. (Private preceptor Parami).

Public Preceptor Ratnadharini

Fiona Jeffrey becomes Mokshalila (long “i”, long last “a”). She whose play is liberation. (Private preceptor Punyamala).

Heather Fitzsimons becomes GUNAKARA (dot under the “n” and a long first and last “a”). She who is a mine of virtues or who scatters virtues. (Private preceptor Kalyanasri).

Chris Holdsworth becomes SUBHAGA. She who is well blessed. (Private preceptor Sobhana).

Robyn Smith becomes ARYAJAYA (long first “a”, long last “a”). She of Noble Victory. (Private preceptor Padmasuri).

Rosemary Bartlett becomes DHARMAVAJRI (long “i”). She who is a vajra with egard to the Dharma. (Private preceptor Vajragita).

Jo Coates becomes KSHANTIKA (both long a’s). She who has patience, tolerance, spiritual receptivity. (Private preceptor Maitreyi).

Elisabeth Lynn becomes ANANTAMANI (dot under the last “n”). One who has or is an infinite, boundless, eternal jewel. (Private preceptor Kalyanasri).

Barbara Trznadel becomes SUNETRI (long “i”). A good leader. (Private preceptor Kalyanasri).

Public Preceptor Maitreyi

Jenny Lam becomes SASSIRIKA (Pali) (long second “i”, long last “a”). Glorious, shining, beautiful (through her contact with the Three Jewels). (Private preceptor Dhammadassin).

Rose King becomes SUVARNAMAITRI (dot under the “n”, long “i”). She whose friendship is golden. (Private preceptor Kulanandi).

Tere Valverde becomes SADDHAJOTI (Pali) (long second “a”). She having the light, the radiance of faith. (Private preceptor Parami).

Kathleen Winter becomes DHARMASHURI (long “u”, long “i”). The heroine who embodies the path to Enlightenment. (Private preceptor Dayanandi).

Jo Hughes becomes KAMALAGITA (long “i”, long last “a”). The song of the red lotus. (Private preceptor Dayanandi).

Martha Rios-Lopez becomes AKASAVAJRI (long first and second “a”, long “i”). Vajra in the sky/in space. (Private preceptor Parami).

Maggie Fasse becomes AMARACITTA (long last “a”). She whose mind-heart is deathless. (Private preceptor Prasadavati).

Laura Thomson becomes VANDIKA (Pali) (long first “a” ). She who worships or praises. (Private preceptor Khemasiddhi).

Public Preceptor Dayanandi

Chandra Birenbaum becomes KARUNADAKINI (long 2nd and 3rd “a”, long second “i”, and first “n” and “d” have a dot underneath). Dakini of Compassion. (Private preceptor Ashokashri).

Ginny Layton becomes SURYAMANI (long”u”). Sun-stone, sun-gem, (jewel of the sunlight). (Private preceptor Dhammadassin).

Cherry Collins becomes TARAGITA (all vowels long). Song of Tara. (Private preceptor Parami)

Public Preceptor Parami

Sheila McIntosh becomes SATYAVAJRI (long “i”). She who is a diamond or thunderbolt of truth/reality. (Private preceptor Viryadevi)

Cristyn Emmett becomes SHRADDHAMANI (long second “a”, stress on the syllable “ma”). She having the gem of faith. (Private preceptor Kulaprabha)

Belinda Birch becomes SATYASHRI. She whose radiance is Truth. (Private preceptor Ratnavandana).

Since the purchase of our properties 18 months ago now we’ve known that a name change for Aranya was on the cards.

The name Aranya was originally suggested by Vidyadevi before the start of the fundraising in 2000. It literally means forest and has connotations of wildness and seclusion of environment and also of practice; a place where true freedom can enter our minds. Aranya has served as a symbol for the qualities we’ve looked for in a womens ordination retreat centre and it has guided us well.

However it was always intended that while Aranya was the name for the fundraising project it was likely we would chose another name for the retreat centre once we had purchased. As we focused the property search on Spain this became more of a certainty due to associations with a very similar word in the Spanish language.

‘Araña’ in Spanish means spider. To top it off ‘loka’, or ‘loco’ means mad. Aranyaloka = mad spider. Apparently Bhante, in a mischievous mood, says he quite likes this name and I’m sure he’s not alone! In the community we are divided as to who is happy to live in the realm of the mad spider women! Spanish and Spanish- speaking Sangha members on the whole would rather a different name.

So over the past year we’ve invited suggestions for names and those of us who have spent time on the land have been able to get a feel for it.

Informally in the community we’ve found ourselves referring to the retreat centre as Gridhrakuta or Vultures Peak. Both because of its dramatic position in between two limestone ridges but more so because of the griffin vultures that nest in the rock face and circle high above the retreat centre most days.

The characteristic that seems to embody the land (all 108 hectares of it) and the very different settings of both buildings - is spaciousness. There is so much space here - on land and in the vast blue skies, and also ‘psychic space’. But there has also been a feeling not to lose the flavour of ‘aranya’ - the forest and the sense of seclusion. Along with the vastness of space there is also the intimacy of detail; the sense experience of meditating alone under a pine tree and touching the earth.

So Aranya becomes Akashavana - ‘the forest retreat of luminous space’.

Let’s see what emerges into that space as time goes on.

Living in rural Spain, speaking the language as a 5 year old child might, not knowing how a range of things are done – from de-registering a car after you’ve rolled it down a 20 foot bank and written it off to figuring out how to book a train ticket from Bordeaux to Barcelona – it’s important to get used to the fact that things often don’t go as you think they should. Expectations are frequently confounded and Spanish people generally seem helpfully relaxed about this, shrugging their shoulders and saying ‘no pasa nada’, a sort of ‘oh well, never mind’. Having tried – until now unsuccessfully – to get email at home in the mountains for 9 months, involving at least 10 visits to the Vodafone shop alone, I am very familiar with ‘no pasa nada’ and its sister phrase ‘no te preocupas’ (as Vijayasri’s Scottish Granny used to say “dinnae fash yoursel’”). One starts to relax with the unexpected and surprising.

But even so these surprises still come on a regular basis and as I was driving back slowly back along the 25 minutes of our dirt track at 11 o’clock at night – following an enjoyable 2 hours watching England play Sweden to a fairly satisfying draw – I had a minor ‘Alice in Wonderland’ experience. I was keeping my eyes peeled to the road partly because I was still regaining confidence driving after our car accident the month before and partly because, with an average of 3 vehicles a day passing, interesting animals such as genet cats, red squirrels, badgers and wild boar can sometimes be seen on the track.

But this time sitting completely still on the side of the track at its narrowest point was a large white rabbit. It sat under the light from my headlamps. I got out of the vehicle thinking the rabbit would move as I got closer but it just shook a little and eyed me timidly. With a steep drop on the far side of the road I didn’t know if I could get the vehicle past it. Also, I wasn’t sure I wanted to leave it there. Something wasn’t right. We were in the middle of nowhere and here was a large, distinctly domesticated-looking rabbit trembling and peering up at me. I gently picked it up thinking it would resist but it lay shaking in my arms. As I held it I thought about what to do and where it might have come from.

It could have been a child’s pet living in the local village but that seemed unlikely. There are a few households with cats in Peñarroya and that is fairly unusual. Spanish people are not big on pets, with the exception being dogs and even then you’re more likely to see them abandoned on the roadside. On the other hand the vultures feeding ground was about a mile further up the track. Perhaps they transported the rabbits live and killed them at the in situ. Had Bunny somehow escaped or fallen off the lorry? He seemed strangely docile as if he was a bit stunned. The third alternative was that he might have escaped from one of the local rabbit farms – but it seemed a long way to come especially for such an inert being. He didn’t look like he was up to hopping through at least a mile of steep mountainside.

So – what to do? I put him in the car, again expecting him to come to and start scrambling to get free and I would happily watch him revert to normal rabbit behaviour and wave goodbye as he disappeared into the undergrowth. He didn’t. He cowered on the seat and wee’d on my handbag as I drove the remaining 6 kilometres extremely slowly so as not to bump him around too much. It was after midnight when I got home and the house was completely dark. For some reason I felt vaguely naughty tiptoeing through the house with him. I put him on my bed while I worked out what to do with him and he promptly wee’d again and shook more violently. He obviously wasn’t happy inside and seemed frightened and in shock. So even though I knew he was at risk from the foxes outside I put him in a more natural environment with a couple of carrots and a lettuce leaf and went to bed.

In the morning I looked for him before morning meditation but I couldn’t see him anywhere around the house. I assumed he had hopped off. But then Vijayasri rushed around the corner “guess what I’ve seen” – and I did!

Over the next few days he settled in, we made him a cage for overnight and he hopped a few paces to the nearest bit of shade during the day. He stayed close to the house sometimes going back to his cage after only being out for half an hour. He became ‘Moksabunny’ (or Bun most of the time) Moksa meaning freedom, to celebrate his breaking out from wherever he’d come from. He moved slowly and in an ungainly way with a hint of a limp. His bottom was big and square as if he sat on it too much and we joked about his unatheleticism until we started to put together the most likely scenario of his previous home.

The local rabbit farms are huge. Up to twenty thousand rabbits in each farm and conditions are often extremely cramped and poor. Rabbits will tear out their own fur to try and create a nest for the young that are born after they have been artificially inseminated. We were told that if an animal escapes it is unlikely to survive for very long as its body has got so dependent on the high levels of antibiotics and hormones put in its feed. Plain grass could give it diarrhoea. They are transported live in tiny cages to the local abattoirs.

Certainly Moksabunny’s appetite was small though he seemed fond of carrots and the dried food I bought for him. Gradually we watched him emerge from shell-shock into a more dynamic being with a distinctive personality. His limp turned into a more rabbity lollop. He took to grunting and stamping his back legs in something approximating a temper tantrum when I tried to pick him up. I’m familiar with rabbits from having kept them as a child and I took a lot of pleasure in looking after him and his big fluffiness. I felt moved by contemplating the suffering that had been his lot and was still the lot of thousands of others like him. As many times before I reflected how glad I am to be a vegetarian and not contributing to an industry that cages and kills animals to feed me.

After his early life I was very keen that we let him have his freedom. But as he roamed further and became increasingly adventurous in exploring holes in tree trunks, groves of trees and the rocky mountainside he was at more at risk of becoming a foxes dinner. It was clear he needed a more permanent home. Jokingly I mentioned our dilemma to some friends recently moved to Valencia province from the UK. “Oh yes, we’ll have him” they responded immediately. Followed by “the cats won’t eat him will they?” Two English moggies? I was confident Moksabunny could hold his own.

On the morning we left for Valencia I looked out of my bedroom window and saw a pale, slightly scraggy fox on the terrace 3 metres away. He looked from Moksabunny’s cage into my window and then slunk off as I pursued him with my camera. Bun was leaving just in time.

He didn’t enjoy the journey that turned out to be a six-hour scenic route through stunning parts of almost deserted Teruel. He cowered and grunted as I tried to reassure him by stroking him or offering some water. But the next day on a shady terrace full of potted marigolds and carnations he found some nice things to eat and perked up a bit.

Two weeks later I hear Moksabunny is doing fine. His lives in a large fenced orchard with olive and fruit trees. There is grass and shade with an enclosure for overnight. He is becoming more lively and increasingly hard to catch to put away in the evenings. He may not have a long life ahead of him but I am very glad he has had a taste of a better life and a bit of bunny freedom!

We silently walked along the path from the retreat centre house to the future shrine room. The path skirts the hillside, through carrasco bushes and pine trees. On our right was a drop down into the green valley fed by the spring, on our left a rocky rise to the high cliffs where the vultures nest. As we walked we brushed against thyme and rosemary, releasing their scent into the warm evening air. The only sound was the cicadas’ rhythmic chirruping.On two evenings recently Bianca, Vajradevi and I have walked this path to the lush green terrace where the cherry tree grows. Seven days ago we meditated around the place where the future shrine will be and performed the dedication ceremony, and last night we returned to perform a ritual ‘stabilising the ground’. The central symbol of the ritual is a vajra – or ‘diamond thunderbolt’. The vajra we used is a twin to the one planted in the ground under the stupa at Tiratanaloka, the UK retreat centre where women go as part of training for ordination. It was given into our care by Maitreyi who lives at Tiratanaloka and who is the overall kalyana mitra (spiritual friend) of the Akashavana project.Each of us in turn grasped the vajra, and struck the earth, then made the earth touching gesture, as the Buddha had done calling the earth to witness his spiritual efforts. We invoked the earth goddess to witness the many meritorious actions of ourselves and of others that have led to this opportune moment. We reflected on gratitude to our teachers, Sangharakshita, Dhardo Rimpoche and others. Then we planted the vajra firmly in the ground, symbolic of the Vajrasana, the place where the Buddha sat to gain Enlightenment.Sitting surrounded by the hills it was as if I heard a sort of echo - an echo from the future. In not such a very long time the hills will not be so empty of human beings, women will be here, meditating, chanting, practising the Dharma in this very place. It can seem almost miraculous, yet it has been the result of patient steady effort, of ourselves and everyone who has given in any way. I felt a great sense of gratitude.As we three walked back home down the dusty track a wild goat, startled, leapt up the rocky hillside and stood looking down at us, making its strange birdlike alarm call. Unusually it did not run away but remained there for a while silhouetted against the sky, goat looking at humans looking at goat.As night fell dark clouds were gathering in the west and thunder was growling. Suddenly a ray of lightning pierced the sky, illuminating the landscape for a flash, as if nature was demonstrating the power of the vajra, the thunderbolt that destroys darkness.