To Sit In Grey Rain, On The Daoist Teaching Of Flow And Spontaneity

. 2 min read

With only a day left in North Carolina, I've begun to notice a wash of sadness fall over me like grey rain. I already miss the trails, the ponds, the ocean, the friendly neighbours that smile and wave—even stop you to chat, tell you about their lives, ask you about yours...

I miss it, but it's time to go.

My life doesn't exist here. Not really. Being here is like stepping outside the walls of reality for a little while. Not because I believe my life exists purely in Toronto though. Definitely not.

In many ways I feel like my life has been parcelled into fragments and spread around the world, existing in Adderbury, in Villefranche, in pockets of Paris, in the Adriatic Sea... There are worn memories in Florence, in London, in LA, in New York, and soon, here, in NC.

The difference between a place that's become a memory and a place that holds a fraction of still breathing reality is the future. That's to say, though there's a lot to be loved about the places marked as memory, I don't see myself spending extended periods there again. The energy doesn't fit with mine for the long haul, I guess.

You know, for a long time I've tried to find my most true reflection in the metaphorical mirror. And part of that meant wondering what place would suit all my, often contrasting, traits best.

But in the past little while I've realized that's a strange, if not limiting line of thinking. That would mean assuming there is a perfect place out there, for one. Which of course there isn't. And, more significantly, tha would mean assuming I as I currently am is how I will always be, that I'll never change, never grow. Which, god, I hope will not be the case.

So, I've stopped all that white-knuckling over the future.

I'm doing my best now to embrace a life of release, as daoism teaches.

"Life is a series of natural and spontaneous changes. Don't resist them."
— Lao Tzu

This is a healthier way to be. And the only honest way to be, I think. The veneer of control is just that: a veneer. An illusion.

I've noticed that letting go, releasing my grip, frees up a ton of space in my mind, feeds a whole host of energy to my body, my spirit.

That is, when I can sink into this philosophy and whole-heartedly embrace it. Which, as I keep writing on here, is a practice. It's certainly not an overnight flip of a switch.

But I'm here, practicing. And that's all we can do. Just keep trying to do what's best for ourselves, best for others.

In this vein, while right now I feel sad, while I wouldn't mind waking up for a few more weeks under the trees, spending a few more Saturdays with my sister at the beach... I'm choosing to release. To feel the weight of this emotional grey rain, and to accept it. Sit in it. Let it pour right down over me.

Big love, you guys,