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“Like a Son or a Daughter Returning Home”*

03/27/2022 by Aruni

“Like a Son or a Daughter Returning Home”*

This blog post is also available on my Facebook page to make sharing it with friends and family easy for you to do.

Impermanence.

Everybody’s
Favorite
Topic.

Where to
Even begin?

In pondering 
Impermanence,
I consider—

What did I most deeply 
Love
In my life,
That 
Was
Taken
From
Me?

The most adored part of my childhood,
With full merging into it,
With heartbreak of 
Its seasonal rhythms…

I loved-beyond-love
My Girl Scout camp.

It gave me
Freedom from the
Literal bonds 
That tightly tied me
To myself
For
The rest 
Of the year.

School,
My stuttering,
Having to talk in class,
Wanting to kiss girls,
Feeling so deeply 
And desperately separate—

All released
As we drove down
The sacred dirt road
Leading to
Girl Scout 
Camp Archbald.

For two months
Each summer
I was freed.
I was loved.
I was competent.
I was—
A part of.

I know now
Summers there
Probably saved
My life.
~~~
And what of the end of summer?

What can I remember and learn?

With summer’s ending came
Crushing heartbreak.

Heading away 
From the light.

Driving away
From the fun.

Back to school.

Back to aloneness.

I cried and 
Got 
Quiet 
Again.
And
Again.

I was
Speechless
With 
An adolescent
Grief
That
Colored
My world.

I counted
The months
Till camp reunions
At Christmas time, 
With the hope of
Our beloved counselors
Coming home from college
To visit.

Did it ever happen?

Or was imagining 
December,
Easier
Than
Imagining
Summer,
So far away?

And then—
Springtime
Opening up,

And then!

Summer
Packing,
Heading
North
To 
Kingsley,
Pa.

Camp Archbald.
She held my growing,
That camp.

She held my hope,
That camp.

She held my potential,
That camp.

I had to practice
Leaving
And
Coming 
Back.

I had 
To practice
Impermanence.
~~~
I wanted camp to never leave me.
I wanted to never leave camp.
What I know today,
From this vantage point
Of myself as a
“Green, juicy crone”,
(thanks, author Jean Bolen):

I am that camp.
I am that child.
I am that lake
Softened by
Decades of
Girl scout pee.

I am that flagpole
I am that 
Dining hall.

I am all that.

It is me.

~~~
Absolutely nothing
Comes to stay.

It all comes to go.

Every 
Single
Thing.

All things.

Come
To
Pass.

Bodies.

Beloved animal 
Companions.

Feelings.

The cells
In our bodies.

The seasons.

A kiss.

A memory. 

A rush 
Of connection.

A flush
Of disconnection.

The fluidity
Of the moment
Is beyond
Our minds’ grasp.

Impermanence
Is the true nature
Of our lives.
~~~
I know this
Except 
When
I 
Don’t.

I understand this,
Except
When
I can’t.

I practice this
Mostly,
Except
When
I am
Unable.

When I relax
With the rhythms 
Of life,

When I let
The season
Be
What
The season is,

The moment be
What the moment
Is,

I am that kid driving down
That dirt road,
Summer stretching
Before me.

I am 
That 
Free.
~~~
Here is Pema Chodren, beloved Buddhist teacher and writer and dear soul, on her eightieth birthday, six years ago.  It’s about seven minutes long—please listen to the end.  The closing prayer, oh!  The closing prayer, from which the title of this blog, “Like a son or daughter going home” is taken.*

Pema Chodren at Eighty—Relaxing with Impermanence

 

~~~
The profundity of this song, the depth of both lyrics and melody have lived with me for a long time.  This is a most stunning version, taken from Leonard Cohen’s Live in London tour, in 2008.

Like Pema, Leonard talks about impermanence, leaning into life as it is, allowing all of it to shine upon us.

Please do listen through to the ending.  His appreciation of the band members is such an essential element of the performance.

All parts woven into the whole:

~~~
And you, dear friends?
Where does impermanence land in your body?
In your history?
In your world?
What’s hard?
What’s easy?
How do you
Practice
Letting go?
~~~
Let’s end with Pema’s closing prayer:

When the appearances
Of this life dissolve,

May I with ease 
And great happiness,

Let go of all attachments
To this life,

Like a son or daughter
Returning 
Home.
~~~
May we honor
And celebrate
Our imperfectly
Perfect
Practice.

All blessings,
Aruni

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