“Oh no,” said Matthew, “Toby is eating the ‘sacred sticks’!” Matthew wanted to help me, but his housemate’s dog was busily destroying something important to him. Matthew had recently returned from a pilgrimage to New Mexico, where he had stumbled across cactus droppings in the desert, which, when they fall and dry out, make a magnificent and tasty formation, as evidenced here:
So it took Matthew a minute to realize that he didn’t care. Sure, the sticks were beautiful and sacred, but so is Toby, and perhaps Toby’s appreciation of the sticks is as sacred as anything else Matthew might come up with.
It made me wonder where I’m more interested in preservation than the possibilities that might come from destruction. Buddhists say change is inevitable, and suffering comes from clinging to the past.
Many of us are suffering immensely at the destruction we’re witnessing today of respect for human rights and the rule of law. It’s hard to imagine that anything good can come from it all. But it is equally painful to believe so strongly that nothing can.
So, I admire Matthew’s swift letting go of his sacred sticks, hence avoiding the pain it might have caused him to lament their destruction.
Where, I wonder, would it be wise to do the same?
