Tag: impermanence

To What Shall I Liken the World

A summer storm moved through the area yesterday, tearing the newly formed lilac blossoms from security of their limb.

At first, I was angry at such a loss to the garden. The fence, once replete with the lilac’s treasure – now barren. I worried for the hummingbird who seemed quite transfixed by her imminent metamorphosis.

Could she find joy without them?

As if on cue, she flew past the fence – and, never looking back, paused at petals of an English Rose. I smiled realizing her courage and the resilience carried by such tiny wings.

It reminded me of a passage from Dōgen Zenji. With your permission, I’d like to share it with you here today.

“To what shall
I liken the world?
Moonlight, reflected
In dewdrops,
Shaken from a crane’s bill.”

Impermanence is the cornerstone to the Buddha’s teachings; everything that is, can not be grasped. When we understand the truth in this fundamental simplicity – only then, can we finally know peace.

In this way, all of life becomes the garden’s ‘everlasting’.

In peace, my sweet friends..

Namaste ❤

This Moment of Awakening.

I remember once hearing the story of a wooden block which sat above the entrance to a great meditation hall. Upon which was written the following Tassajara Zen verse:

“Wake Up!
Life is transient
Swiftly passing
Be aware
The Great Matter
Don’t waste time!”

Each day, the block bore the strike of a large wooden mallet — an honored tradition to call the students ‘home.’

As the years passed, the block was worn thin through each of its ‘sufferings’ — becoming frail and weakened, until the once powerful words faded gently into memory.

Eventually, only the block, now transformed, remained; its scars now testimony to the depth of the teaching.

Nothing in this world is permanent, my loves. And as I travel this morning along the same wooded path, I see – that even the great oak must make way for new seedlings.

In this way, life and all its lessons become a gentle unfolding. And our time here – a fragment of the greater lesson to be shared.

Life is transient, my loves, and swiftly passing…Do not squander these precious moments into worry.

In peace…

Namaste ❤️

What If I Forget How to Write?

Reprinted: October 2012

Sometimes I have the silliest of fears.

It started quite innocently with a monster under the bed—but as I grew older these thoughts grew bigger as well.

Today, I was worried that I might someday forget forever how to write.

I mean, what if tomorrow all of this inspiration was gone? And, what if these words just stopped flowing along?

I suppose it’s a panic that every writer feels from time to time—and every once and again that one day this magnificent gift of inspiration might just suddenly and forever disappear.

It reminded me of the very first time I brought my newborn son home from the hospital. He had such a rough first few days living in this brand new world—locked away in the farthest corner of a dimly lit Neonatal ICU. And I, a new mother, and not yet knowing what to do, spent every single moment, of every waking hour, slipping my fingers through that tangled mess of wires just to simply touch his hand.

And, when that day finally came, when I was able to bring my baby home—I was overwhelmed with gratitude at this gift of a most precious human life—that I literally spent every single night of those first few months sleeping with my fingers resting gently on his tiny little chest.

You see, I was so terrified that something might happen to snatch this gift away that I barely slept more than a few hours, if at all, with each passing evening.

It was the very first time I had faced the reality of impermanence—the impermanence of life and life’s most special moments.

Writing has become such a joy for me—that in some ways, I feel a bit like a new mother all over again…carefully protecting this amazing gift that has been so graciously shared with me.

And, when inspiration stops me dead in my tracks, urging me desperately to copy down these few short words before the magic of this thought is forever lost?

That’s when I find myself clinging intensely to that one thing I feel might soon be gone.

Perhaps, that is why I am here tonight with my fingers resting gently on inspiration’s chest?

And, as I look over to my son standing here next to me today, my heart is immediately calmed and my fears simply melt away. Because in him, I see all of the love and life’s lessons I’ve shared with him along this way, radiating brilliantly for all of this world to see. And in his eyes, I see a bit of my own spirit reflecting back to me.

Everywhere we turn we are faced with impermanence…but in some way, our spirit lingers on.

I just hope that mine may linger always through my words.