“The only way to make sense out of change is to plunge into it, move with it, and join the dance.” – Alan Watts 

I had visitors this week who went for a walk through a couple of cemeteries close to my house. I haven’t been able to do this as most of my walks are with my dog, and neither place allows furry companions. This morning was different as Stella was at the groomers’, so I thought I would take advantage of the alone time and make the trek.

The first thing that struck me was how steep the walk to both locations was. I have read about the importance of drainage dictating the location of cemeteries, but there is also the fact that they are now that much closer to heaven. Both are important, with the latter being a bit more heartwarming. There was even a pair of walking shoes placed on a rock along the path; no doubt, the owner was now a resident.

Looking around, I was reminded that all of these loved ones had to die for other things to be created, whether living or inanimate. All is energy. I remember a guy I used to work with saying that graveyards were full of people that companies could not live without. It was an interesting statement and so true. I have not known of any organization that collapsed because of someone’s departure. Life always carries on. So far, our understanding of energy is that it cannot be created nor destroyed, so we must have death to have life. It also reminded me of the impermanence of everything I encounter and the importance of not defining myself based on outer fleeting forms. The man I see walking by every day will either stop one day, or I will not be here. My house will make way for a new building or green space. The car I drive will be recycled into something new, potentially not even automotive. My possessions will be re-used or become fuel for other creations. My family and friends will either attend my funeral, or I will attend theirs with our collapsed energy, creating new, wild, and beautiful things.

This outer impermanence does not mean I should not love or care for what I have been blessed with. It does mean, however, that I should not define my happiness based on its fluid existence, as that makes for a very tumultuous lifetime.

At times, I have lived life trying to control things so they would not change, taking comfort in the routine even if it was not always healthy. Retirement will see me trying to be more accepting of life’s ebb and flow, enjoying what is at this moment, cherishing but not holding on to what has been, feeling sadness at an end but knowing it means a new beginning. Our spirit remains constant throughout all change.