Notes from Impermanence
“It is difficult to accept that all my beloved communities are going to die, and that even while they exist there are incredible spaces between human beings, even the closest. And, despite all my urgings toward community, I will always be, like Abraham, a wanderer, far from home. But the people who are most aware of their own impermanence are the most able to throw wide open the doors of heart and hearth to the stranger, to hear his message, receive his blessing.” - L’Engle
More than ever I am aware of my own impermanence, lately. And as it soaks in I do find, also, that I am more and more able to throw wide open the doors of heart,(and well I don’t have a hearth right now but if did…), to the stranger; not just meeting new people, but wanting to hear their story, to connect and be more than strangers – to receive their message, their blessing while hopefully sharing my own message and blessings.
This wouldn’t have happened if I stayed comfortably in my own idea of safety and security and stability. It’s not to say I don’t find my hands grasping to hold on even to these new friendships. But it seems that entering into these “incredible spaces between human beings” is something like playing music together – we each have our part to play to make something beautiful and that can only come as we listen to the music being made, holding loosely our ideas of what it should sound like.