Spend much of the day with old photographs, in response to a request for pictures to build an archive of Dana, my teacher’s sangha, my own original heart sangha.
Each image stirs an association with people, places, times, lives. Sometimes there is a tug of wistful regret for what and who is « gone, » nostalgia for what I think « was » and believe is « no longer » and wish could be « again. » Mostly, though, I feel happy and full, which surprises me – even if I wouldn’t mind looking now like I did then, 20 years younger. Or would I?
Only death is ageless.
The life that is remembered as I sift through the « past » is « mine, » but it utlimately reflects how « mine » is intertwined with « theirs, » how the times of our lives are lived all together, as one, now.