Something strange and poignant experienced at a birthday party the other night for two people, one 50 years old, the other 60. I’m acquainted with these people only by marriage, people my husband knew years and years ago.
The evening consisted mainly of eating and drinking and watching old videos from plays they had all staged together more than 20 years ago.
They seemed transfixed by these images of themselves, when they were so much younger, thinner, more virile and alluring, happier, better… They seemed fascinated by a glimpse at times passed.
Because I hadn’t known them then, and hardly know them now, I only felt faintly what for them was clearly an acute sense of the inexorable passage of time in their lives. Some laughed, some remained quiet, another cried although everyone pretended that it was for some other reason.
Oddly, for me it seemed like a succession of images just passing by.
Except that I, too, know so very well life’s slicing bite of impermanence. (I was younger 20 years ago, too.) I sat there at once observing their ache (despite their various masks of humor, nostalgia, denial) and feeling my ache in theirs and theirs in mine.
And so I realized that, yes, I know them after all.
Glimpse at times passed
About the Author: zenscribe
Enseignante Zen et poète, Sensei Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell est née et a grandi à Minneapolis, aux Etats-Unis. Arrivée en France en 1981 pour étudier la littérature et l’histoire, elle y est restée, s’installant à Paris, où elle élève ses deux enfants et gagne sa vie en tant que journaliste.
The Zen teacher and poet Amy “Tu es cela” Hollowell Sensei was born and raised in Minneapolis, but came to France in 1981 to study literature and history and has lived in Paris ever since, raising her two children and making a living as a journalist.
Desire to share more openly – and to open to everybody, everything and every moment-
this week we decided to share together, Freddy, Tomas, Sophie and I,
Sitting again morning and evening at our usual ( ?) times,
Living together by doing what have to be done in our everydaylife,
Expanding our small circle to ex-centric circles, larger and larger
Expanding to life, into life.
This week begins a Friday night, as a result of sharing for Freddy what has been our previous daylylife sesshin.
Friday night, the exact beggining of the week in the jewish calendar
Today, Shabbat, and we can rest together, working or not it doesn’t matter,
we can rest in that frame we created, in that frame we are, all together
I realize how much i can’t count only on myself, on this so restricted self, how much i need the support of a frame, your support
until maybe the time i will be myself with you all, in the frame of the world – in the infinite circle of the universe,
Maybe one day, when even this glimmer will vanish…
Gratitude to you, Sensei, Roshi, Genpo Roshi and Maezumi Roshi, to the lineage and the Sangha (s) to allow us opening more and more.
Gassho
Sorry for the double click!
Bonjour, bom dia, hello,
A new sesshin is born…
As we sat together tonight and spoke about the "Retreat in the Heart of Life",
four of us decided…
…to be together, sitting, or…
from 7.30 to 8.30 am, and from 8 to 10 pm
we start tomorrow until friday
Thank you, Amy, as you told us we could write on the blog,
I share this information, and this practice,
with all of you…
and I bow,
Sophie.
Bonjour, bom dia, hello,
A new sesshin is born…
As we sat together tonight and spoke about the "Retreat in the Heart of Life",
four of us decided…
…to be together, sitting, or…
from 7.30 to 8.30 am, and from 8 to 10 pm
we start tomorrow until friday
Thank you, Amy, as you told us we could write on the blog,
I share this information, and this practice,
with all of you…
and I bow,
Sophie.
Merci Sensei
:)))
Hi Jin.
Nice to hear from you.
I would say it like this:
The nature of our ache is the same; we are all feeling the pain of losing something to which we are attached.
Of course, there are differences in degree in ache. Also, perhaps in this birthday party situation, because of my regular sitting practice of letting things go again and again and again, I was less attached to the attachment than some of the others. Or maybe not.
And what constitutes a "meaningful" question? Are these questions of mine meaningful?
Bonsoir Sensei,
I don’t know if my question is meaningful, but I’d like like to ask you if your ache hurts as much as these people’s ache.
Jin