“It furthers one to have someplace to go.” I Ching
When I was in my late 20’s and early 30’s I used to consult the I Ching. I would sometimes get this message during a reading, but I could never really figure out what it meant, in the context of my questions at that time. Now, the memory of it seems to haunt me. I am a lot older. I no longer consult the I Ching. But, somehow, I remember this line. I don’t know why. Perhaps this writing meditation will make it clear, perhaps it will veer another direction, revealing some other aspect of my being that needs attention. Anyway, here goes.
Why now? I wonder what is it about this stage of my existence, which warrants this kind of reminder? I am waiting for the train of death to pull up to the station. My life isn’t over, by any means. But, I can feel the proximity of the end of this story. The one place I have to go is inexorable — it is my final resting place. I am not exactly waiting, yet, I am. Somehow, the knowledge of my impending death, the conclusion, that is in store for me, changes my remaining time, charging it with expectancy and preciousness. I am more vividly lost than ever, more wisely confused, more uncertainly alive. The clouds inside, now have a tint of mystery to them.
I know I am going away. That there will not be much that will remain for long. My friends face their own lives, their attention will go where it belongs. I will disappear into the frenetic rhythms of life. My own absence, makes my heart grow fonder. I want to touch what I cannot, to grasp what eluded me, to resonate for a moment with someone’s heart, to quietly hold to awareness my own essence. Being is too much, and not enough. Going away, surprisingly, means arriving like never before.
I am thrown by what I think I know. I can’t get over my own weak-kneed insistency. It seems, I can be found, wandering near the abyss. Yet, I go on, hearing the whistle of the train approaching, and feeling some strange combination of amnesia and hallucinogenic awakening. This era of my life holds some recombination of things I thought I knew, with things that have always had a life of their own. I am uplifted by my own mystification. Not-knowing, has become a way back into the garden.
Maybe I have put too much emphasis on the going, disappearing, and not enough on the fading. Some shimmering presence is tucked into this moment. It seems that I have more chance of perceiving it, when I am nearing skinlessness. As the emptying of my hull takes place, the moment blazes as never before, and the mystery that has befuddled me so, becomes incandescent. I am somehow implicated, the light shines right through me, and the landscape of living, no matter how brief, is fraught with miracles.
It furthers one to have someplace to go. I am being transported, some magic conveyor belt is taking me, toward an edge, that is stirring up some kind of storm of delight. Aging, wrinkling into nothingness, becoming broken, no longer existing as I have been, is seizing me, and delivering me into another world, one that exists with this one. I am unable to remember so much, but you know what, compared to what is emerging, it doesn’t matter. Graying has introduced me to colors beyond my imagination.
