It is coming, a little over a week now and it will arrive, always too soon, never ready despite knowing its precise arrival day and time.
We will be ready, but only after a scramble, for that is how it must be, how it has always been.
And again this year we will be thankful, as all claim on this day, but why do so many forget the giving part of things, giving to those without, to those within who lack, to those who only want to come within to escape a without we dare not imagine for the nightmares and terror we would suddenly have to feel.
Birth, he said, is the first and only real terminal disease. You only realize that, of course, when it is far too late and there is nothing at all you can do about it. Cancer and all manner of diseases merely shift the timeline, but once you’re on the path, there is only one way off, and that is a step few are willing to take. For some, this is a source of terror, for others it is no more than a slow walk around the block, with the promise you’ll eventually arrive back at the place you began, although it is no longer the place you began but one from which you begin, not again but anew. Again. This is what the Buddha said 3000 years ago, more or less. He confirmed that the just the other day, outside the soup kitchen. “Hey,” Buddha said, “even the once or twice enlightened need to eat from time to time. Join me?”