It’s Yom Kippur, the most serious of new years for those in the Jewish tradition. It’s a time for reflection, for looking back at one’s actions. For noticing where a mismatch has occurred, between what one wished one had been capable of – and what actually occurred.
And looking forward, the aspirational idea is expressed in the Hebrew “t’shuvah,” turning.
To me this is about movement. It’s a feeling-through, into the questions: Where can the grip of stuckness be eased, loosened? Where can I realistically call for turning, movement, change? In myself? In others?
And it’s about movement’s concurrent – stillness. Where will stillness serve me, others, better?
What is “stillness”? Can it be different from “stuckness”?
How much time have I, have others, got left to us to be still? to move?
Bugs contemplates mortality.
Bugs escaped from the harness again. He got spooked, he got convulsed, he got out of the jacket, and he got straight to the Bolt Hole. This time it wasn’t so easy to get him out.
Back to the drawing board.
We’re back indoors, in the harness and working on the leash, inside only. Then I’m scooping him up in my arms and holding him close, just inside, the open door.
When we do that, I can feel his heart pounding.
We’re not going out again, until he is at peace with the idea.
“You got that right, Ma.”
I’m turning away from labeling Bugs generically as Mr. Monster, fearless predator. I’m turning away from the expectation that he’ll be like that always, in all circumstances – and then being rudely surprised when he’s not.
I’m turning to paying attention to how he is, in the present moment. How I am, in the present moment.
At the present moment, Bugs is Mr. Monster in the house and Mr. Mouse outside. At the present moment, outside with him I’m going to be neither calm nor confident.
Bugs is as he is. And how am I with that?
I want to turn toward what is. Move with it if I can, stay still if not.
Good Yom Tov, everybody. Good day, good year.