Moving house is truly an exercise in the Buddhist principle of non-attachment. I believe that I have few attachments but in fact I discover a hoarder’s compulsions, novelty Christmas socks not worn for years take on religious meaning; American footballs unlikely to see flight I clutch desperately like a running back fending off steroidal linemen; Robbie Williams “Millenium” is suddenly a timeless classic in danger of erasure from the annals of music - I better keep that CD just in case; and mementos of corporate achievement, that photo of me with Prince Andrew - I think that’s the back of my head anyway, have taken on an unholy significance like Marilyn Monroe’s medical records at a Christie’s auction. Let go bro, let go!
Just when I think I’ve made significant progress, just when I feel I’ve made profound leaps in my daily practice, I get “knocked back for six”. I have to reexamine many many aspects of my training, add many new ideas. But unlike past years, I am not shocked, I have come to expect the disruption, I welcome it. My students now joke prior to my trips to Hong Kong “everything’s going to change now!”