Sangham

The thing I remember most vividly about my parents differs from day to day. I've heard it said that eventually we all become our parents, a comment that vividly plays in my mind these days as I catch myself doing little things that my Mom used to do. Such as save eggshells for my rosebed, yell at my honey to make the bed and save plastic sour cream containers. Lately a ritual that both my parents used to indulge has become more meaningful to me. As long as I can remember, whenever I left their home my parents would stand on the porch and wave until I was out of sight. For years I used to think they were just being dramatic, trying to catch the last glimpse of their only daughter. Or that they were so emotional they didn't want to miss a single bit of me (ok, that's a conceited reason but if you knew my parents...) But what I recently discovered, compliments of dear cousin Patty, is that our parents stand and wave to us for a reason. A reason called sangham. It's traditional for an Indian host to wave their blessings to a guest until they fall out of sight. So my parents stood and waved not because they couldn't bear to lose sight of me, but to send me on my way with blessings.

You're thinking, now that's a great ritual to follow. And yes it is but oddly enough, I adopted the practice before I knew the reason behind it. I would stand on the porch, usually with Duke my Jack Russell prancing about the lawn and wave till my guests faded from the line of vision. It just felt right that I should continue the connection to my guests until they left the zone of my home. Now knowing the logic and beauty of sangham, it feel even more poignant and powerful. For all the times I wished my folks would just go inside, now I feel significantly more humble. Seems like the older I get, the more that sentiment pops up.