Funny how very small things renew themselves. They are slightly different and yet recognizable as having at some other time been present and living.
What tripped this solenoid switch in my mind was an email from a woman who came to practice zazen here a lot of years ago. I remembered her name and her coming and she mentioned that she still had the chanting sheets I had given her for practice purposes. But I forget what she looks like or what she does for a living or anything more tangible. Another Zen student. Another Zen student like me. And now she was asking if I still sat and could she come and sit too.
It's like bits of flotsam floating up out of some rich and rushing river pool -- here a leaf that shows itself and then sinks anew; there a twig that pokes out of the water like some investigating snake, only to slide back silently into the bubbles and dark water. Everything in motion. Everything moving. Everything new and yet known as old as well.
Trying to pinpoint one event or another, one reconnection or another, is far too greedy. But I see no reason not to enjoy the dance. What is new was once old. What is old is now new. Happening, happening, happening.
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