Letting Go

On Friday night my six-year-old daughter, Elisa, cried and cried.  We had just told the kids that we would need to leave the house that we have called home the past four years and find a new place to live, and she was devastated.  Change is hard for all of us, but Elisa takes it the hardest. She ran outside to the large maple tree- the one she has spent hours climbing, swinging and jumping from branches- and hugged and held on tight. 

How do we say goodbye?  Moving on isn't easy, and changes strike suddenly like flashes of lightning.  

I am struck by sorrow... sorrow at this loss of control I suddenly feel as the places I have grounded myself to reveal their impermanence...and- more poignantly- the other sorrow that creeps up as regret. As I have felt threatened, perhaps I have struck out with claws to hang on, and lashed at ones I love, who have stood by me, in the clinging. 

I watch the first morning glories of the season creep their way up my trellis, and wonder if they will have covered the porch by the time I say goodbye.  I look around at this room I am writing in now, this wood paneled place of meditation and quiet, and I know that even this is illusion. 

All is temporal and impermanent....specific names, places, people.  But in letting go, perhaps there is also freedom, and non-attachment offers a way to peace.