Leaving sitting tonight, we see a sharp, clean graffiti painted in red on a wall: Je est un autre, it reads, quoting Rimbaud’s famed line. I think of Marguerite Yourcenar… I is another, it is true indeed. And so, too, the other is I.
Nonetheless, everything is hot and sticky tonight. A storm is brewing. I will lie down soon and seek sleep in the heat or wait for the cool of deep night.
The heat will of course go, when and how I don’t know. Everything will go. I and the other, too.
For now, and always now, we are here. Even when separating, which wouldn’t cause us such grief if we just let it be.
We’re all just moving on, alone all together.
I came across perhaps the greatest teaching of the Buddha, which he told his students as he was dying: “You should know that all things in the world are impermanent; coming together inevitably means parting. Do not be troubled, for this is the nature of life. »