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How To Feel Compassion For All Things

As I show my Pearl Export, with Evans C2 Heads, PDP double bass, Zildjian cymbols, sexy Gibralter, Floating tom, Sabian B8 Ride, to a man who wants to buy, I suddenly remember just how much, I loved that guy.

The Wine Red color seeps deep into my memory. I remember playing shows, hearing my bass drum miked up so when I flicked my ankle my ribcage shook. Where every sound made would surely be known.

The feeling of being in a band, being yelled at, having the lead guitarist sweating in my basement claiming he didn’t go out of time, but then smiling and laughing about it after playing in front of a crazy crowd. Those experiences are hard to find.

Remembering the band practice right before a show, where I chose to make up a “semi-song” for “just in case they ask for an encore.” And they did. And we lied and said we didn’t have a song, but could improvise. And played the song we made up till they didn’t want it anymore.

I haven’t been able to play the drums in over 2 years, due to neighbors in apartment complexes having functioning ears. I never really thought about what it would be like to play again, until it came time to sell this thing that had suddenly become a friend.

I feel an urge to hold on, but quickly remind myself there is no point in that endeavor. They won’t be played by me for a long while or so, they might as well live on with another drummer. One must always go with the flow, even if that results in a temporary bummer.

So why do I feel, such compassion for this drum set? This group of connected objects, that provided me with more memories than I thought I was going to get? Could I go on, without it? Or is it necessary to hold on? Neither is exactly true, but to keep the memories and sell it without a further due.

How to have compassion for any and all things, is to realize that they are temporary.

It isn’t until our grandma is turning 85 that we start to realize we should have spent more time with her. It isn’t until we are halfway through college that we suddenly realize we didn’t go to enough parties and our time spent there was a blur.

It isn’t until we brake our arm that we find out its utility. It isn’t until we have been beat at our own game that we gain some humility.

How would life be different, if we truly reminded ourselves the true nature of every one thing. That to live is to eventually die and there is no point in trying to cling.

To treat our parents, as if they too, were starting to develop a relationship with the Grim Reaper. To treat our first year in school or on the job, as if it was our last and enjoy it deeper.

Life is a gift, one that can be taken away. And that goes for every item, breathing or not, that we see each and every day.

Remember the good, and that this will one minute all be a dream.
And the next time the Starbucks cashier messes up your latte, you’ll think twice about being mean.

How to have compassion for any and all things, is to realize that they are temporary.