Saturday, December 5, 2009

Big, cottony snowflakes are falling. The kind that stick to your eyelashes.

The first heavy snow of the year falls in Washington, DC, and for the first time in my life, it doesn't make me melancholy. It reminds me of a haiku by Basho:

"First snowfall: the travelling monk's faded backpack."

You see, since boyhood, I hated the fall. Sure in Indiana where I grew up, we looked forward to the brilliant sulfur-yellow and flaming red maple trees. But for me it always meant returning to school and the fear of not being smart enough. Odd, that feeling despite going on to have a good life compared to billions of other inhabitants of this planet: I did well in college and a scholarship took me abroad. There I met my wife, returned home, married, got a good job and raised a family. Still the dread arose annually as my daughters grew up, and eventually left for college. Then came the hardest period: nearly losing both daughters, separation, loss of a parent, and divorce.

Taoism has a central idea that all dualities are interdependent.

"Any action would have some negative (yin) and some positive (yang) aspect to it. Taoists believe that nature is a continual balance between yin and yang, and that any attempt to go toward one extreme or the other will be ineffective, self-defeating, and short-lived." (Jeff Rasmussen, PhD, author of Spirit of Tao Te Ching)

The monk's faded backpack of Basho's haiku bears witness to the struggles of his life. The snow throws the scene into relief, its beauty a counterpoint to the threadbare sack.

As I said, this year is different. Today I see the snowfall leaving the ground covered with a white blanket that purifies, quiets the mind and makes everything beautiful again. The hard events of my life balanced the good things and now make me cherish them even more.

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