How do you measure a year? How do you measure a lifetime? I am feeling very philosophical as the minutes and moments wind down to the end of another calendar year and as I count down the last days of writing this blog.
Tonight I am allowing myself to feel a sadness that I have been keeping at bay for a long time. I have reasoned to myself that I don’t have time to fully immerse myself in whatever I’m feeling so I have chosen to ignore it or push it away when it gets too close. And while I am by no means going to fully go there are the moment, I am nonetheless going to at least dip my toe into it and see if I can stand it enough to at least wade part of the way in.
I am trying to practice letting go. One of the goodwill wishes I pray nearly every day says, “May I learn to see the arising and passing of all things with equanimity and balance. It is an acknowledgment that not only all good things, but that literally everything must come to an end. Because this is a given, then my wish is to learn to let go with a sense of equanimity. I am not very good at it yet, so I keep practicing. I am hoping that equanimity shows up soon.
I am a very family oriented person and find almost no greater joy than being in the presence of as many of my family members at the same time as possible. These days that is a rare phenomenon. I think the last time my entire family was together was at my father’s funeral three years ago; one never really wants to have those kinds of family gatherings. It used to be that we all got together for the Christmas holidays, but over the years even that has been difficult to accomplish–the expense and inconvenience of travel has meant that one or another of us hasn’t been able to join in the familial festivities. And in recent years, it seems that all of us getting together has lost its importance among some of my siblings. But it hasn’t to me. And each time we don’t gather feels like a further fragmentation of the tenuous bonds that hold us together. May I learn to see the arising and passing of all things with equanimity and balance.
I know I need to let go. In yesterday’s blog my daughter spoke so eloquently about missing people, that it is in missing them that the coming together for the holiday becomes so special and meaningful. And that is true, I suppose. I need to stop missing what used to be and spend time in gratitude and appreciation for what is. Somehow I have to put my attention and energy on those who chose to gather, who are able to, rather than keen and pine and lament over those who do not or cannot. And yet, there’s this hole in my heart, this sadness I am trying to come to grips with. May I learn to see the arising and passing of all things with equanimity and balance.
This evening I scrolled through a bunch of pictures I have on this computer–ones I’ve taken digitally over the last few years and a number of old childhood photos I’ve scanned. Pictures of my parents, my siblings as children, myself looking so serious as I do in many pictures. I am grateful for the times when we were closely connected to one another and for the relationships I have today with each of my siblings. And I am grateful for my small unit family–me, my son, and my daughter. Though I don’t see them as often as I’d like, I’m grateful for those times when I can. I am looking forward to having my daughter here for the holidays and am determined to connect with my son sometime in the next few months. In the meantime as best I can I will enjoy and celebrate each moment I spend with my daughter and my siblings throughout this holiday and be grateful for each of the 525,600 minutes I’ve lived over this past year and all the minutes and moments to come.
Family Photo at Christmastime 1983
