Everything can change, or be lost, that is why we see attachment leading to suffering.  Up followed by down, down followed by up.

I stopped by Dancebreak, to see how the social dance kids are doing, and met a new person or two.  It was nice; it made me think about a few things.  One is how social dance offers a rare and unique exception to the rule: that change itself is a form of consistency.  It is strange that continuing to meet different people would bring a sense of constancy when normally it would feel the opposite.  But I have seen enough people come and go to know that those who stick around are either devoted solely to the pursuit of dance itself, or manage to continue meeting new people.  Because people always come and go...you can never rely on the same group year after year.

Once upon a time my interest in dance was enough to sustain me through the years.  I can't deny how helpful that was during all those times when the social aspect of it was either tiring or just felt terrible.  There are of course many types of moments over the years that where I have learned to appreciate the company of other people in different ways, but in the past there were just as many (if not more) ways in which I felt uncomfortable with it, or at the very least drained by it.  Now things are a little different as I feel almost zero inclination to improve in my social dance (has been replaced entirely by a wish to improve more in my solo dance).  It is freeing, in a way, to do something with no desire to become better...it makes those self-criticisms carry so much less weight.

Perhaps you reap what you sow -- karma.  The next chapters of my life are starting to be outlined, and I have...some feelings about it that I won't care to elaborate on.  I know the path forward and I know who laid the various bricks, as well as the confluence of factors leading each one to be placed in its particular formation.  I feel like I have the experience to see these things, to understand what really happened, and even to understand what did not happen.  Exposing yourself is hard; that is why it is always safest to not ask a question.  Why would you ask something when you are afraid of what the answer might be?  Sometimes it's too hard, so we just don't ask in the first place.  This, I saw, too, and stumbled upon the path forward.

But it made me a bit sad.  Knowing why things are the way things are does not make me wonder any less "why" it can't be another way.  Why we must ask for everything that we need.  I know the answer, but I cannot deny the sadness in it.  That we might never be cared for simply for existing, for being our selves, and our past selves, and our future selves.  That our minds will never be read, that they will never be attempted to be read, and even when they are, that we will wish they hadn't.  Instead we must verbalize everything.

That, is one of the reasons why Sayuri has remained as an icon for me.  It was an envisioning of a solution for me -- the solution to the problem of expession.  Sayuri was tranquil, calm, and at peace.  If Sayuri was quiet, then surely there must be a way.  Along the way, Sayuri had, perhaps, one or two small caregivers.  But I don't she ever depended upon others to provide what she never said.  Perhaps Sayuri's presence is a lone one as well, yet she is also happy.  Is it a contradiction?  Or has Sayuri followed the precepts, and reached a place where she can survive on her lonesome whilst being truly content?  Surely, Sayuri carries deep attachments within herself, as I do too.  Has experienced pain and suffering, yet carries on quietly with a lightness that belies her troubled past.  Why?  What is the source of her strength?  Perhaps it is simply that tranquility is its own boon -- that the act of carrying oneself with calmness is inherently meditative.  And that practice can ground us.

Who is left, in this desolate inner temple?  Who will be the deity to return to me?  Perhaps I have not been as steadfast with my worship, but I have continued to pray, to hope, and to wait, haven't I?  Will I someday find salvation?  Or will I someday turn away from the statues forever, and walk away in the endless night?  Perhaps I will someday stop moving, and become a statue myself.  Frozen in place, finally free of time, that ceaseless harbinger of death and decay.