Leave the raft upon the riverbank.

That’s the summation of an oft-cited Buddhist parable, where the story gently reminds us that just because something is useful in one setting, we need not carry it with us forevermore.

Steeped as I am in traditions of honor and loyalty and yes, a little bit of stubbornness, this idea has always been uncomfortable to me. What if I need the raft again? What if there is never another raft to be found? What if the original raft resents me for continuing on to dry land? What if I made the raft with my own two hands? What if the raft was a gift from a beloved teacher?

Friends, there are ideas and relationships and places and endeavors meant for a whole lifetime through, and beyond. And there are also gifts that are meant for a specific moment. It’s wasteful to cling to a summer tomato until the frost. It’s thoughtless to transplant a cactus to the rainforest.

Dear ones, may we appreciate the rafts that keep us afloat. 

And when we reach the shore, may we part with gratitude,

and gladness,

and grace.

Photo by WJH, March 2024.