The Empty Nest

At the end of the summer, the birds have all abandoned their nests and are beginning to make plans for the autumn months ahead.  A new batch of tiny lizards seems to be the last sign of breeding in our backyard.  Instead of romance, most of the creatures are busy now eating in preparation for colder days ahead, despite the triple digit temperatures being endured this week.

The scrub jays have returned to cracking seeds and nuts instead of consuming mostly grubs, as they do during nesting season.  Even our goldfish in the water garden seem to suggest that they should be fed all day long as they begin their final growth spurt before their water hibernation.

The cycle appears programmed into the genetic code for each species, with perhaps a slight odd mutation here and there that gets vetted for evolutionary potential.  But from our tiny snapshot of time on this planet, all seems much like it has always been.

As I watched each of my three children prepare to return to college, high school and junior high respectively, I realize that we too are among the creatures of habit — doing much the same as we did before and making ever so slight mutated nuisances that at least give the illusion we are not our parents.  Each of us programmed to follow the genetic code and collected experiences that shape our rutted patterns.

As I sit in contemplation of my own Empty Nest … EmptyNess … I wonder what it is that my DNA has in store for me during the quiet mornings as the kids are in school and my husband lays asleep.  With my formal sitting practice playing a game of hide and seek, I am left with long periods of inquiry in which to explore the Mu.

Perhaps instead of looking at the object and wondering about the nature of the empty nest, it may be an opportunity to turn the light back upon the Self and ask Who is having the experience of emptiness?  What is it that notices the seasons change?  What sees the road of rutted behaviors?  Who is it that experiences the koan?