We seek some kind of permanence; a person,
a philosophy, a feeling, a state, even a spiritual identity, to hold on to. But
the fleeting nature of all experience ensures that everything we grasp
eventually slips through our fingers – including our attempts to stop grasping.
Until we recognise that impermanence is actually a dear friend, and fragility
gives life its beauty, and this seemingly ordinary day – with its waking, its
washing, its breathing, its joys and even its pain – is the dear friend we have
always longed for. The Beloved calls us home in any way she can, and this
‘ordinary’ life is her ingenious invitation. You are imprisoned in grace, dear
friend, and the key was never made.
Jeff Foster
