It took me a long time to come to terms with the reality that things are always changing, and that a routine that works for a while might not work forever. And that by following one's feel good one does the most good possible.
It is disappointing if one still feels the need for that grip, to let it go. This is a great lesson of jiu-jitsu.
Today was a day back, it felt like, a fall beginning. Rosh Hashanah has always felt like an appropriate time to start the book again, and we had a great celebration. I even got to do an impromptu renewal ceremony with my friends who dance. I wrote this poem:
I am sorry
I was afraid
I will
I am
Enough.
And then I wrapped it in silver paper and a pink string and lit it on fire and skipped it down Nashoba Brook. And today I read about how when Buddhist monks finish those beautiful sandpainting mandalas they brush all the sand together and let it loose in running water, so that the blessing might be shared. And I read a story in my book about India yesterday about how Hinduism (where mandalas probably originated) is the most likely candidate for universal religion, because it accepts everything and all gods.
I am not sure yet how this all relates.
But.
I took this picture on Labor Day, traditionally summer's last day, with my mother and my daughter and some friends, and it reminded me that for a beginning to be there must be an end. Chaos is the shadow of purity, pointing toward practice.
I am going as slowly as I can, paying attention.
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