Finished cleaning out the apartment in Princeton today.  Turned over the keys and the parking pass and headed south to Philly.  Ana, who did most of the cleaning today, said that she remembered that she was here the last time she talked with her brother in Guatemala.  He died suddenly earlier this year.  I told her that I’ve been having similar recollections of instances from the eight years that Anne Mei and I lived in this apartment.  Emptying a place fills our minds with memories.

As I wrote in a post almost two years ago, “Emptiness is a big thing for many Buddhists.”  Out of respect for Ana’s and my memories, I won’t bore you by repeating or expanding on what I wrote then.  It’s really much more simple.  Just as I found karma in a pile of boxes filled with files, emptying this apartment of all its furniture and stuff reminds me of all that I would expect and remember as I entered our home.  I’m not feeling a void, another word that doesn’t do justice to what the Buddha was talking about.  I’m just aware of all that’s moving along.





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