Beginnings, Endings, Presence & The Path

 

September brings with it a lot of beginnings. Because new things are asked of us when we begin something, beginnings also involve change. Even what we perceive as endings are beginnings of something new -- a new period of time, a new way of being, a new landscape, etc. For me, this month brings the start of all my groups, the start of the school routine with my teenagers, the start of them driving on their own and what that means for me, the start of cooler temperatures and leaves falling, the start of a new self-care routines, the start of relationships with new members in the community. Something new I've been seeing on social media about seniors, "its the first last day of school!" I didn't know that was a thing!

We can meet beginnings in a contracted state, ready to protect against what we don't know, or we can meet them with trust in possibility and growth, knowing our resiliency is strong, should we need it. The latter feels better emotionally and physically, but it takes some attention and intention to let go of habitual guarding that arises. It takes awareness that the guardrails are emerging and then the perspective to choose how we really want to meet it. Meditation, mindfulness, awareness -- they are the path to freedom, to ease, peace, contentment, and that's because unless we see what we think, feel, say, and do, we can't choose. We are not free at all and happiness eludes us.

Though our habit energy is strong, we are not servants to it. To create new habits, to see meaning in things, to be filled with awe, wonder, gratitude takes applying ourselves. It is not effortless, but it can become less effortful the more we practice. Without this effort, I may have missed this experience...

Last week, I went to convocation day at my son's school on the 2nd day of his senior year. I warned him that hearing live bagpipers at ceremonies often makes me cry and I would try not to embarrass him. I thought it was a beautiful ceremony, though this yearly tradition seemed routine to the school community. I didn't get the sense that crying at the bagpiper's music was a norm. The experience was fresh to me, though.

A senior stood at the podium to share some words on courage that was accompanied by a slide projection of illustrations to the far left of the gymnasium corresponding to each line he read. The audience turned and watched the projections, but my eyes stayed on the student whose posture was attentive and upright. Almost military in his demeanor, he was clear and deeply articulate. When he sat down, he sat at attention and let out a deep breath and sigh of relief. All I could do was smile from ear to ear. This was the same student I remembered three years ago, like my son, a newcomer to the school. He shouted out a "goodbye James" back then after soccer practice and I felt relief at the time, that someone knew my son's name and wasn't afraid to connect. He gave a talk on courage and I could see that courage at work inside him on that first day of his freshman year and on this "last second day." And then the tears did want to start flowing and it wasn't because of the bagpiper. I looked at the class of 90 students across from us in the bleachers of that gymnasium and thought about all the experiences this one group of young people will have before them. How many will thrive, how many will get stuck, how many may have ill health or not live as long as me. I thought of all the awkwardness in these high school years and how they will outgrow it, or already have, and just how amazing the whole things is...this life.

To some teachers, students, administrators, trustees this was just another ceremony, another speech. If we don't look closely, if we miss that freshman shouting a goodbye, if we miss the nuances and don't stop long enough to take in the life that's here, well, then it is just another ceremony, another day. I drove home and felt joy and awe that morning. And that was a beautiful thing.

My invitation this week is for us to keep our eyes, ears, senses open so that we don't miss the subtle, beautiful gestures and the awkward moments that remind us how precious and vulnerable we all are together. We can let that tenderness of being wake us up to joy and love. We have to slow down to do it. We have to be present.

Wishing you all a week of noticing beginnings and choosing how you want to meet them.

🌻
Jean