Round Three
*
I was reading this buddhist guy yesterday and, you know, emptiness, non-attachment, blah, blah. But impermanence. Saying how we suffer so from the effects of it. We want things to stay the way they are, want not to lose what we've got, on and on. Tremendous suffering from this misunderstanding of the impermanence of everything. But he points out, without this condition of impermanence, your child will never grow up. Or the seedling will never become the plant, which will never fruit, so you can't eat of it.
We should be glad for it. Make a place at our table for it.
*
I am struck dumb with simple gratitude. Like old Lester Burnham when he was lying there bleeding out on the kitchen table.
*
It's hard to remember how good we have it nearly all the time.
*
Namaste.
*
posted by tearful dishwasher at 5:52 AM
10 Comments:
Dennis likes this post. we do have it so good so much of the time.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
This comment has been removed by a blog administrator.
Dennis-
It's just hard to keep it in focus, you know? Easier by far to gnaw at what we imagine we're missing out on or what could be better...but we really are showered with blessings 99.9 % of the time.
Like good perfumes, for example. How bad can it be if there are smells like that in the world?
yrs-
tearful
impermanence is on my mind today. it pops up hard every time i look at my beautiful, wonderful son and want to keep him near forever. but i understand what you're saying. i just have to work it into my heart.
dottie bones-
all we can do is to make sure that we drink up the present moment as if we'll never be given another shot at it.
cuz we won't be.
I think that is what is demanded; and is the best, most truthful way to give thanks for it.
Instead what we most often do, myself esp., is to cling to the past or hope for the future, while the present moment slips away, never to return.
we just gotta keep our eyes and hearts open.
yrs-
tearful
It's so damned hard though.
To accept impermanence.
Not just of the world around us, but of self.
It's harder still to live in the moment, really live in it and be in it as it's happening and resist the urge to merely bear witness to it.
When my father was dying during that weekend in October--forever ago, now--I recall that I became a camera. I was recording every moment as it was happening, snapping mental photographs, and shooting mental video of every single moment. I wasn't in those moments. I was outside looking in. It was the only way I could cope, I guess.
Hardest of all, I think, is to keep the heart open. My eyes are always open. Wide. But that old heart of mine is like an old dog. It doesn't seem to want to learn any new tricks.
Brother, it bolsters me, always, to know you're out there in that big bad world, loving it despite its badness.
Laurel-
It does me good to know you're out there too.
And I think that you might be wrong about being in those last moments. I doubt anyone could have been more present than you were.
You have a great heart.
Remember to have compassion for yourself. That's your assignment for the week.
yrs-
tearful
While going through some papers that belonged to my late husband, I came across a page from a Zen calendar that some friends had tucked into his birthday card -- the calendar page was from his actual birthday -- that said "Live each day as though it were your last." He died two months later in a car accident, and now that scrap of paper is taped to my fridge. A reminder. Each day, each day.
Again, thank you for posting. The Temple of the Tearful Dishwasher: I come to worship, to contemplate.
This world is nearly unbearable and we are asked for so much.
We can't refuse.
I feel blessed to have your company, and I'm deeply moved by what you've said. I keep trying to say more, but everything I try to say just sounds trite.
Thank you.
And I'm sorry.
Those are heartfelt, for all their inadequacy.
yrs-
tearful
Post a Comment
<< Home