Ages

I am just about to embark on another decade. One day being the same as any other, this day is yet invested with much expectation. I don't know what to make of getting older. Don't know how to understand it. I resist the notion that my youth is something to be mourned, and tighten at the certainty that each day brings me closer to my death.

Every moment is new. My understanding of zen is that pain comes from attachment to moments past and moments future. We can visualize and emotionally relive the future and the past, but cannot control them. The past and future moments that dominate thought are populated by awful choices we cannot unmake, unbearably joyous moments we cannot prolong. We treat the past and present as bars or walls confining us in the present, when in fact the singular continuing moment is boundless.