The longer I live, the more I appreciate my baggage. It sorts easier when I am more thoughtful—there is less of it with fewer repeats. What is hard to remember is that some of my best tools will one day become baggage.
I think that’s where we are as a nation–sorting baggage. There are those who would rather just get on with life as if there were not so much at stake, as if so much had not already changed. It is not that they are wrong but they are not right, either.
More and more, people are “woke.” Any attempt to slap a label of normal on the 2016 election is a frame that will not fit. As uncomfortable as it is, both sides of the road need to sit in their privilege and sort their baggage.
Baggage is not without its merit; we carry our tools until they no longer serve. And when that moment comes, to leave them unceremoniously will always leave us wondering “what if.” After all, what else is regret?
It is not that we will not find new tools for we always do. It is that we leave our tools and that bit of self behind with gratitude.
We will know the moment to let go–it is unique to each one of us–it is when we begin again. No matter what side of the road we sit today, we will know middle-of-the-road days, too. We always have.
In Zen, every moment is new, fresh, a way to begin. Karma is ever evolving, our actions form the path we walk, always subject to a change in direction.
So let us sit, sort baggage, for there are miles to come.