When Things Fall Apart
"Nothing lasts forever, Nothing Stays the Same..." 5 Seconds of Summer
The Buddha statue is mine.
It used to sit in my garden with its head happily attached to its neck.
But I have children, and one day I discovered that the Buddha had lost his head. It was a clean break, so I used liquid cement and repaired it.
A few weeks later, the Buddha was once again on his back with his head lying in the dirt. Undeterred, I used a different bonding agent, and, once again, restored the statue to its Zen like original state.
After the third decapitation, I paused. Perhaps there was a lesson here.
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This week marks the equinox - the fulcrum – the tipping point - the brief moment of balance in time. This decade – my fifties - feels like that… a tipping point. If the first four decades were about achieving, getting, accomplishing, having; life has now invited me to pause. We all know what’s coming - what goes up must come down.
Last week, I wrote about the simple joy of looking forward to things that you can’t take for granted because they aren’t always available. I think part of my ennui of late is not being sure what there is to look forward to. It’s just a fact that in midlife there aren’t as many milestones or firsts on the horizon. I am not in the Spring of my life but the Autumn. I am being taught to let go.
Ironically, Autumn has always been my favorite time of year. In fact, the only time that I get really depressed living somewhere equatorial is late September into October as I know that I am missing out on fall somewhere. The beauty of Spring is extroverted and loud – look at me – colors and brightness and verve. Autumn’s beauty is more like me: introverted and quieter. It contains the edge and whispers of the dark days to come.
How then am I so lousy at letting go? It’s true. I notoriously hold on to people and places and circumstances long after they have lived their useful life. Maybe it’s being born in the Year of the Dog… I’m stubbornly loyal…or maybe just stubborn. Maybe it’s that forever seems like a long time to close the door on something.
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I have long been a student of Buddhism. It’s perhaps telling that it is often called a practice instead of a religion. It contains so many invitations to ways of being that could easily take a lifetime or more to actually embody. The concept of non-attachment is one of those precepts. At first pass it can look like a numb detachment to life with Mr. Spock as its poster child. I’ve tried that - trying not to care. Trying to be a model of serene Buddhist like detachment as things fell apart around me. Om mani padme Om.
In retrospect all I was good at was dissociation. It turns out that detachment isn’t indifference. So, what’s the solution? How can I be detached about things I truly love and care about? How does one joyfully participate in the sorrows of the world?
As I’ve grown in my practice, I have chosen to reframe detachment more as “conscious attachment”. Knowing that the things I cling to - my attachments - will in fact break my heart but it’s not something to fear. My heart is big enough to love fiercely while knowing that nothing lasts forever.
I wrote before about the horrible grief of unexpectedly losing my dog this past Christmas. Anyone who has adopted a pet knows that in that very action we are sowing the seeds of our future heart ache. We know that in the normal course of things we will have to say goodbye. If we want to avert the pain, we also must forego the joy… and that is not living.
Nature is a wonderful teacher. The blooms and colors of Spring do not stay – cannot stay – it is not the way of life. Nothing is permanent. Yet we don’t stop enjoying Spring just because we know that in a short six months these blooms will fall. Life doesn’t really pause. Even without the permanence of death things change: Relationships don’t work out; children leave the house; businesses fail. I’ve encountered all of these endings of late. I should be good at it by now and yet it’s so seductive to think I could have done something to fix things. To avert the loss. I cling.
I realize it might be strange to write about letting go in this season of new beginnings and yet to be truly mindful we must start things knowing they will end. Some planted seeds never bloom - those that do will someday fall and yet each Spring we begin again. As Luther said even if we knew the world was going to end tomorrow, we can still plant a tree today.
In the end these things matter most: How well did you live; How well did you love; How well did you learn to let go… Jack Kornfield
I could have bought a new Buddha statue – but for me, it now sits as a reminder. Some things can’t be fixed, but maybe they don’t need to be. If you’ve tried your best to make things right, if you are facing an unwelcome change or ending maybe it’s time to fall in love with the Buddha with his head in his lap.
"Life is amazing. And then it’s awful. And then it’s amazing again. And in between the amazing and the awful, it’s ordinary and mundane and routine. Breathe in the amazing, hold on through the awful, and relax and exhale during the ordinary. That’s just living—heartbreaking, soul-healing, amazing, awful, ordinary life. And it’s breathtakingly beautiful." —L.R. Knost
I love to hear from my readers. What spoke to you. What you’re struggling with in your own journey.
There is something very interesting about the picture of Buddha with head in lap. He looks completely at ease and natural. At first glance, nothing seems unusual or out of place. Your message of, 'even-if-things-go-differently-than-planned-life-can-still-be-good' translates even through your art. You are a mage. Beautifully written. Soul soothing ~~
I once had a Buddha statue that I purchased shortly after my mother died. Then a few years later its head fell off. I said it was practicing non attachment. Mine was not as beautiful as yours so I replaced it with a sturdier one but it always reminds me of the both… and in sorrow and grief sometimes accompanied by crazy laughter.