Life is like bad plumbing. The constant drip, drip, drip of tiny events goes by almost unnoticed — until one day the bucket is empty and it’s over.
When I was young(er), I was only interested in the Big Picture: the daily stuff I shared with my husband and friends made good comic material sometimes; but the constant dripping was often like Chinese Water Torture. Now I realize that there’s nothing else: and I miss the daily sharing of micro-events that soothed the wounds from the “slings and arrows of outrageous fortune”.
Not being able to share face-to-face has been compensated for by this journal and the internet. But it’s not the same. Sometimes I envy my married friends their ability to sink into their mundane lives at the end of the day, their marriages fitting them like favorite old shoes: shabby but soooo comfortable.
I share these daily drips with you (well, not truly daily), and send them back to the cosmos that gave them to me. Who knows if anyone hears or understands? (Of course, with a husband or boyfriend, one always wonders!) It’s a tiny leap of faith. And, as one ages, leaps are bound to become tinier anyway.
Is it important to share this stuff? In a way, yes. The greater sangha is necessary to life. And one loses contact with reality if one doesn’t build that bond.
But more importantly, I’ve learned that just experiencing each golden drop as it lands on me is what matters. I must absorb it and let it go, so I can notice — and respond to — the next. The Big Picture, the dreams and goals, are important still, but not the way they were. After all, the constant dripping is here, now, and the dreams are just that: imaginary, but beguiling. They fuel the passion that drives us beyond the mundane, but the fact is that they don’t exist except in a non-existent future.
And that’s the great puzzle — the great koan — of life.
Drip, drip, drip. It’s a beautiful thing!