Rhythm of
Life
“When I
sit by the Potomac River and watch the swirling currents, when I lean
against a great sycamore tree and sense how its life will continue
beyond my own, I intuitively grasp how my existence is vivid,
changing, empty of any solid self. As we feel our belonging to the
natural rhythms of life, the illusion of being separate and
threatened begins to dissolve.”
Tara
Brach, Ph.D. (Radical Acceptance, p. 177)
In my neighborhood, there
are ancient live oaks, with trunks that two large people can not
reach around. Their roots heave up sidewalks and streets. The power
company carves out the middle of them to clear paths for
lines. But, somehow, they survive. I call them the grandmothers.
Walking through the surrounding streets, one can see the many
generations of change. At some point there was a pecan grove here,
five or six trees still stand tall and drop their nuts in Autumn. In
the early years of the twentieth century, the Birmingham Zoo covered
twenty or more acres just down the street. A few of the original
buildings still stand alongside the rudiments of stone walls and
sidewalks. It's a park now with ball fields and a library. When kids'
baseball or softball games are not being played there, young Latino
guys play pick-up rugby on Sunday afternoons; young parents push
strollers and walk dogs.
All around me, old people
move on to retirement communities or nursing homes, and young people
buy the houses and begin the long stretch of child-rearing. Down the
road from the park is a sprawling complex of factory buildings that
once housed Avondale Mills, a textile industry that for more than a century
employed hundreds people. Here and there, one can still see row
houses, lined up side by side, that were the mill village. Like in
most Southern towns, the mill closed and the buildings sat empty for
decades. Now a thriving industry is once again bringing
life—breweries for craft beer and liquor in the factory buildings;
restaurants, bars and coffee shops line the street that used to be a
decaying railroad crossing. Those row houses have been refurbished
and painted New Orleans colors. Gentrification thrives in the Deep
South.
All this is to say that
life is a changing and expanding circle and we are part of it. We are
born, we live, we love, we enjoy our days and nights, we go through
hardships and great, good fortune, we grow old and eventually die. We
may not live as long as the trees, but we live longer than the birds
and the butterflies. Life was here before we came, and life continues after we're gone. The rhythm of life is forever forward. There's
comfort in that. And, not only comfort, but joy, if you're open to
it.
In the Spirit,
Jane
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