Wrap Up!

Darkness wrapped in darkness:
this, the end of every quest. - Shih-Shu in the Zen Calendar (December 31, 2006).

Day 330. Thirty-five remaining blogs. Make that 35 remaining CycleBuddhaDoc blogs. I am developing a suspicion that, like sitting zazen, blogging has been indelibly imprinted upon my being. Not rigid nightly blogging by any means; rather, a relaxed, flowing, blog-as-the-mood-strikes-me type of posting. In fact, that may be the title of my next blog: As The Mood Strikes Me. I wonder if that domain name has been taken . . . .

I just spent some time tweaking a few previous blogs. Adding quotes, looking up authors and dates for quotes where they had been omitted, editing a little, etc. In the early months of the blog, I decided not to go back and read previous posts until the year ended, at which time I plan to carefully proofread and edit each one again, and then -- Who knows? I haven't contemplated what comes after that (probably because editing itself is so gratifying for my brain I haven't yet looked beyond that invigorating endeavor).

Addressing details from past blogs precipitated some thoughts about closure. In addition to its obvious requisite role in pacifying my obsessive-compulsiveness, closure is important to me because a good ending heralds the completion of something significant and meaningful. There are formal endings, such as the ceremony of funerals, memorial services, graduations, awards presentations, and sports finales like the Super Bowl and World Series. Ritual endings exist for everything from worship services to the posting of grades online after college finals. A good (not necessarily "happy") ending to a movie, play, opera, recital, story, or novel is crucial to the success of the entire work, especially if the audience is to leave with a sense of psychological satisfaction. Most of us have experienced the difference between satisfactorily attaining emotional closure at the end of a relationship and that unsettled, unfinished state of confusion that lingers indefinitely without adequate closure. Endings are important. They impact all that came before and a lot of what comes next.

I remember during football games when my son or another defender attempted a tackle that did not bring their guy down, the phrase "Wrap UP!" would be bellowed by his coaches (and on a few occasions, I must confess, by his mother). Failure to wrap up a tackle could have consequences ranging from a few extra yards gained to a game deciding touchdown being scored. Whatever the immediate outcome, not wrapping up is never a good thing. The defender may have done everything else right: reading the play, getting into correct position, executing perfect timing, outrunning the offensive player, but if he doesn't wrap up, all the good things are for naught. In fact, it's usually as if they never even happened. For all intents and purposes, the effort and energy expended at the onset of the play don't even exist if the tackle isn't completed. Effort and intent aren't recorded in the statistics book; a missed tackle or an executed tackle are.

When I post my 365th blog, I don't want my readers to be left bellowing, "Wrap UP!" Attachment be damned, I want to provide a sense of closure and satisfaction. A good, strong period at the end of the last sentence. I want what came before to matter -- to be significant and meaningful. Something akin to my feeling following the Japanese chant my sangha performs at the end of our zazen sessions. When I exhale the last syllable of that short chant, I am left with a keen sense of completion; my very Being resonates with "That is that."

Sounds like a tall order. I am vastly reassured, however, because I just reminded myself there is nothing to attain. I love it when Buddhism takes my thought processes and kinks them up like a beginner Cowgirl's lasso. It is only then that the thought "I must have good closure to a never-ending endeavor that I shouldn't be attached to because there is nothing to attain" can come out sounding perfectly reasonable. Which is a lot more than I can say about most of the tackles I've seen.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc