I've just reached home after sending Aldran off at the airport. The house seems suddenly less cluttered, more quiet... I didn't feel lonely before his one-week visit here, but now I do.
Before he came, I was really rather enjoying the solitude of my house. It was a peaceful refuge that I came back to everyday to do my work, surf the Internet, cook new recipes, slack around.
But now, silence seems to hang over the house like a dense cloud that I can almost reach out and touch.. I can even almost hear the echoes of our chitchat and laughter. Aldran's warm slippers are resting just on inside of my front door. I'm sitting in the chair so recently vacated by Aldran, alone at my study desk in the dim orange glow of the table lamp, typing away. It's almost dinnertime and I'm going to be cooking for just me, eating by myself, sitting on my usual side of the dining table and facing the empty chair.. maybe reading as I eat, or on my iPhone. Then later tonight, going to bed alone with the other side of the bed.. empty.
Aldran asked me, 'Is it better if I visited you less often? That way there would be less peaks and troughs in your mood...' Was it worth it to have that one week with him, only to be upset and in tears alone like I am now? At this very moment, it's difficult to summon up conviction in my 'yes', but nonetheless, it's still a 'yes'.
It's like asking whether it was worth living knowing that we will die. Life has its strange balance. With every meeting, eventually somewhere, sometime, there will inevitably be a parting. Any new item will eventually be broken, discarded.
By Dr Mark Epstein, in an encounter with a Buddhist monk on his travels in Thailand:
Before saying a word, he (Ajahn Chah) motioned to a glass at his side. "Do you see this glass?" he asked us. "I love this glass. It holds the water admirably. When the sun shines on it, it reflects the light beautifully. When I tap it, it has a lovely ring. Yet for me, this glass is already broken. When the wind knocks it over or my elbow knocks it off the shelf and it falls to the ground and shatters, I say, 'Of course.' But when I understand that this glass is already broken, every minute with it is precious." 