Each Moment that Ends is a New Moment Beginning
I’ve always been one to hold onto things….
My father will still tell the story of how as a 6-year old I didn’t want to throw away the box that my babydoll came in (so he stored it in the garage for 20+ years)
As a child, I can remember the overwhelming sadness that would happen as Christmas Day ended. “But I don’t want it to be over” I would say.
As an adult, I can get myself tied in knots as I, while on a long-awaited vacation, calculate how many nights are behind me and how many I still have left.
Over the past several years as I’ve practiced this tradition of mindfulness, I’ve become more aware of this habit as a source of suffering (note: this doesn’t mean it goes away, I’m just painfully aware of what I’m doing 🙂).
I intellectually know that it takes me away from the preciousness of the moment I’m in.
I intellectually know that all things change - that the suffering doesn’t come from it ending but from my futile resistance that things should stay the same.
But we don’t free ourselves from a thinking mind by thinking more.
So, my “practice” has really been to just be aware of the behavior and the dis-satisfactoriness that often accompanies it. Trusting that wisdom at some point will take hold.
Well, this past week I was on a long-awaited trip to Aruba. This trip had special meaning as it was a unique group of travelers - my parents and my three sisters. No brothers, no kids, no significant others. I recognized the preciousness of this time and for months it had been fueling my soul when I said goodbye after a short Thanksgiving, a quick Christmas, shorter than desired phone calls - I’ll have all the time in the world with them on this 6-day trip, I said.
And sure enough I did. It was food for the soul to have unmetered time. Coming from a large family, while we see each other a few times a year, there are so many people there (30+ at each event), it often feels rushed and requires a mental dance card to make sure you’ve checked in with each person. So, the slow mornings, the long conversations at the beach and the gift of time and space with this small intimate group was a memory that I’ll hold dear.
Oops. But then the mind caught hold. “How much longer?” “Will this happen again?” “Oh no, it’s close to over?”
This time, however, new wisdom took hold.
I realized my fear, my angst wasn’t as much as it was about it ending - it was a pressure that, after the fact, I would question whether I appreciated it while it was happening. When I looked back at the pictures, came across the texts about what pool seat was secured - would I regret that it was in the past and desperately wish I could have a do-over?
I realized that for me, being in Aruba was different than being aware I was in Aruba.
So, several moments a day (often while I walked from the room to the beach), I remembered to be aware. “Right now, be aware - you’re in Aruba” I stopped thinking and let my awareness acknowledge I WAS HERE (happy dance). I felt the warm air, heard the crunch of the sand and the laughs of the pool. It likely was only a few moments - however, in that moment my heart sang, my head stilled and I was fully present.
For some reason, that simple act - those handful of drop-ins - allowed me to quiet the angst that often accompanies the end of something.
Instead of leaving that trip tied up with emotions of sadness, regret, rumination and judgment about whether I had fully taken advantage of this long-awaited experience, I had a heart full of appreciation and an openness to what moment might come next.
The conscious decision to be present to the beauty of what I was experiencing allowed a really different departure as the trip came to my end. My historically clenched hands instead simply held the beauty of the moment.
As one of my teachers said to me, we bow to what happened and hold our arms open for what’s next.
Each moment that ends is a new moment beginning.
