The Hardest Lesson: It’s Not Personal
Life is living itself through us. In all our best and worst moments.
I feel like I’m disappearing into an old boring woman. Like I’m indistinguishable now from every other old bag with jiggly jowls in her late sixties. It’s very depressing.
And then I remember my Buddhist practice. I remember that we contemplate death, the impermanence of life. And I have no problem with that. (Which is total and complete bullshit.) If I can’t handle getting older, and losing all my show-stopping appeal when I walk into a room — how the hell am I going to handle that last hurdle? That last terrifying Now It’s Over.
What are the parallels in the natural world? Do aging dogs yearn for their younger days when they were more spiffy, more frisky, more agile? There’s no telling, but I’m thinking no. They do not. But they don’t write poetry either. So.
My point is nature just does what it does, what she does, without complaint, without trying to reverse herself. Even the floods and tornadoes and fires and hurricanes just do what they do. They don’t rage. They don’t apologize either, that’s for sure. It’s just that those are the conditions and there they go. New Orleans. Gone. California. Gone. The North Pole. Gone. Nature isn’t angry. She’s just responding to what we’ve put in…
