Seasonal Buddhism

One thing I will miss about DC is its four seasons.  Who knew there could be four?  After living in LA, Texas and Seattle, I find this novel.

Yes Manhattan has four seasons, but you don't want to live through them.  Ah, the aroma of hot urine that heralds the New York summer!

Last week the cicadas starting singing in the season.  Although there are no more spent robins' eggs to be found, the birds are bickering over whether a second clutch of chicks is worth the effort.

The garden next to my building is flourishing, the tomatoes growing rosy, the little cherry tomatoes already ripe.  I spied a chipmunk on his back legs, inspecting a particularly fruitful cherry tomato plant.  

Deciding on his vegetable prey, he leapt up and grabbed it.  Hanging and kicking, he twisted around crazily until the vine gave up.  He then scampered to a nearby picnic table, jumped up on the bench and had his lunch.

Watching the change of seasons brings home many Buddhist teachings, one being the folly of attachment.

On one level this is a fairly straightforward concept - attachment to inanimate objects that have no real value.  Your car, the Crackberry, even the treasures you've brought home from adventures abroad.

On another, attachment can be folly when it is centered on time or place.  Although cliche, it is true that there is no constant but change.

Relationships come and go, Love waxes and wanes.  The tides come in, the tides go out.  But recognizing, internalizing, that life is fluid can be very liberating.  You may be having the best years of your life but I promise you, you will have dark years.  Just as, when your world is clouded with doubt and loss, there will be joy.

I've done some selfish things lately, and the move home will be difficult, so my heart is more troubled than I'd like.  I hope I will be forgiven for my selfishness, and the difficulties will sort out.

This summer has brought me winter days in many ways, but I know spring will come.