! ! Vanaprasthiya

Their grandchild’s silken first hair brushed with tender love; their own hair, grey or white or gone; household handed over to their son, daughter, or their spouse; now, to find again themselves, to be themselves; free, they walk the morning air of freedom towards the woods; upon the way, meet others of their age. Trees - as every child knows and old men may remember; old women see through their own children's eyes - listen with such silent wisdom, that among the trees, all become wise. And so they, the honoured aged, meet, acknowledge, greet, speak as many words as truth may draw; meditate; then, open eyes and every sense teach, this is what a temple is; this is what you are. Evening stillness; then they return to the hearth and warmth of family; as a great grove of ancient, fresh-leafed trees where in stillness soul meets nature and finds truth arise. * [With thanks to Sunil Bhattacharya for some hints of history]