back on the blog again, old kid on the blog :-)

Life's most urgent question is: What are you doing for others?

—Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Last night was the first night of teaching after my vacation, a long one.
Two months of giving retreats, attending retreats, traveling and spending time at home.

I sent out a newsletter to kick off the new season and got a mail back from one of my former students,
that her husband had died recently.
I remember the two of them together.. and am acutely reminded of the fact that everything that has a beginning also ends.
Everything that is born, dies. Everything that is created, is here for at limited amount of time.
We are all a vulnerable constellation of cells, that are here for the time being, and none of us know for how long.

Could this thought wake us up to live life more to it's full?

I thought of that as I saw all these familiar faces yesterday, arriving at the shala, and some new ones ...
The old faces, happy and expectant, joyful to be together again, like coming back to loved family.

The new ones expectant, but also maybe a bit apprehensive. What is this? Can I relax here? What is asked of me?

And I thought of the fact, that every time we see eachother again, is a gift. That we are here at all is a gift.
We tend to take for granted, that things will go on as they do right now, although we know from experience, that they never do, and we tend to fall a bit asleep, not really waking up to the fact, that we are here right now... Right now.

We don't know what will happen tomorrow, but we are here together right now.



I saw the quote by Martin Luther King yesterday, and if we really let it sink in, that we are only here for a limited amount of time, maybe we can wake up to actually seeing other people and in that wanting to reach out and be there for them. Be honest and open. Support. Share ...

Why hold back? What is there to loose?

I know, that for every day, for every hour, for every minute, that I am not present in my life, my precious life is slipping away, like grains of sand through my fingers. This life, this present moment, will never return.