No Beginning, No Ending

No beginning and no ending. Only continuation. It's a concept that Zen Master, Thich Nhat Hanh, would speak of again and again in countless talks and books. Sometimes, it is easy to recognize the wisdom of this notion in our life. We can see that what exists didn't come from nothing, so many causes, conditions, elements went into its being here. It, too, doesn't just end. Its substance, its energy, changes form and continues. Science verifies this. And yet, when it comes to the people we love, this one can be a little harder to grasp. An ending is felt. And of course, in the classic Zen way, we are also told not to cling to concepts at all. There is both an ending and no ending, a beginning and no beginning.

I've been reflecting on all of this quite a bit this year. With the passing of my mom in the spring, I keep running up against, "that's all good and fine with continuation; I know she continues in me, but she is not here -- I can't talk to her" and a wave of sadness washes over me and the tears fall. The waterworks often come in the car when I think of calling her and I realize I can't. So I try as best I can to hold onto her voice and what she would say when she picked up the phone, always happy to hear from me, and I talk back as if she is here. I suppose that is its own continuation. But lately, I have been playing with an even bigger thought which is somehow more comforting to me, which is that she doesn't continue in me. I am her. She is me. This feels even more centering, solid, free. The feeling of absence diminishes with this thought. I was never not her and she was never not me. And though harder to feel, it is true of all people. But if that sounds too out there, I understand. Let me get back to continuation... 

This past Sunday night I had a simpler understanding of no beginning and no ending. I facilitated the last Sunday night meditation group. 11 years ago I started this group at what was then The Wellspring Health Collective. I sat, often alone, until the first dedicated member, Meredith Sue, found me and we sat each week until the group expanded one person at time, slowly, over years. We outgrew that space and were generously offered space at what was then South Mountain Yoga in South Orange. After 2 years we had to move and this time we made our home at St. George's Church where the group grew even more until the pandemic struck. We didn't miss a beat, but went online that March where we have been since. And now, for various reasons, the time is ripe for change again and while I am ending that particular group, I am starting more.  It is an ending and a beginning. It had already begun way before me. Countless teachers, people, groups and life experiences led me to create that Sunday night community. I couldn't say where it began. I also can't say where it will end, as all the experiences people shared there live on in them and flow out of them. Some of us will still sit together at other times and others will find new ways to practice, as was true with so many of the people who came and went over the 11 years. It is such a beautiful example of continuation and of the necessity of change. Nothing new grows without change.

My invitation this week is to welcome the evolution of something that is happening in your life. It might be something that is changing, something that may appear to be ending, or beginning. See if you can open it up and be aware of all that led to it's being and how it may continue to go on, creating a ripple that creates another. See just how big and connected all of this living is. Rest in it. Find comfort in it. Trust in it.

🌻
Jean