Life’s Endless Flow

Text and photographs By Sunny Lockwood

Nothing stops the flow of life. Not wars or volcanoes or earthquakes. Not
even death. So how do we deal with this reality, especially knowing that our
personal part in the flow is temporary. Each of us is but “a ripple in the
stream.”

Copyright 2011 by Merikay McLeod

All Rights Reserved
First electronic publication, January 2011
The passing years never stop. I remember when I was in college, reading
Alan Watts’ description of life as a river flowing, flowing always flowing.

His description matches reality and it is a reality that I experience more fully
as I grow older.

Nothing stops the flow of life. Not war or volcanoes or earthquakes. Not
even death. The dead (be they trees, insects or people) decompose and
become the substance out of which new life sprouts and grows.

Despite life’s ceaseless current, there are times when we really want
everything to just come to a stop for a while. There are times when we
simply need to pause and catch our emotional breath.

When something huge happens … like the shooting at the Tucson shopping
mall, or the assassination of a president, the moon landing, or the amazing
rescue of those Chilean miners trapped under ground for more than two
months. At times like that, I want everything to stop, to stand still at least for
a while. How can life continue streaming when such tremendously important
experiences disrupt our hearts and souls? But the flow never stops, does it.
The evening and the morning forms the next day. And then the next and the
next and the next.

And soon we’re months or years or decades farther down the river and we’re
all still gliding along in the rich and endless flow.

Maybe that’s what memory is for – to give us that moment’s reflective

pause.

Last Sunday, Jan. 16, 2011, the TV show “CBS Sunday Morning” presented
a piece on John F. Kennedy’s inauguration. The piece ran because it was 50
years ago this month that JFK became our nation’s 35th president. The
program said seven out of 10 Americans alive today were not even born
when Kennedy took the oath of office. To them, such a retrospective shown
in crisp black-and-white film footage, is history.
To me, watching the handsome young president and his beautiful wife on
that snowy bright Washington morning was watching my own life in rerun. I
was immediately 13 years old again, full of awe and hope and wonder at my
new President asking me to give to my country. His question, of course,
planted the idea within me that I could actually contribute to my nation. I
could make a difference. It was all new and inspiring and wonderful.

And within moments, my eyes filled with tears, knowing what lay ahead for
him, his wife and his children. What lay ahead for our nation…the hopes and
dreams of the civil rights movement and the space program and the Peace
Corps, and all the violence of political assassinations and the Viet Nam War
and on and on… the ceaseless flow of life rushing through me in the form of
memories.

All that was and is no more.

All that is and all that is to come.

What will tomorrow and next month and next year bring?
The flow continues and we with it, growing older every day.

One of my favorite Watts’ books, “The Wisdom of Insecurity,” emphasizes

the Buddhist understanding that “all things are in transition.”

Nothing is fixed. Nothing is permanent. Everything (including you and me)

is temporary. Here today, gone tomorrow or a few days after that.

It was painful in my youth to try and imagine such impermanence. And it is

still painful. Loss usually hurts.

Since we cannot stop life’s flow, and since the flow includes our own
demise, how can we relate to this reality?

Here are some practices that help me.

First, I accept that everything and everyone is temporary. I don’t ignore this
fact. Fighting or railing against reality wears one out and leaves one unable
to enjoy the gifts that surround us.

Second, given the impermanence of things (and people and situations) I

dislike, I feel good knowing they won’t last forever.
Third, given the impermanence of things, people and situations that I love…
I try to pay attention and focus on these precious gifts. I try to cherish
through word and deed all that I value, so that the impression of love will
not only flow out from me, but will also emboss itself upon my heart and
soul.

Fourth, when I lose something or someone I have loved (through death or

other kinds of separation), I grieve. I try to give the loss the amount of caring
grief it deserves…and after that, I take a deep breath, thank God for what
still surrounds me in the flow and gently focus on living fully today.

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