Down Days

I thrived on doing and forgot how to be. When I finally went to counseling to work through depression, I was in a state in life where I couldn't even make myself a cup of tea. I watched my roommate make tea and wondered how she could take the time to do such a thing, to let the water boil, let the leaves sit, actually slow down enough to drink it. Everything in my life was about doing. - Lori Smith in "A Walk with Jane Austen"

Day Twelve. Still Week Two. Time oozes. . . .

I woke up to snow today. Not that big a thing -- especially since a great deal of the country is currently buried under record snow falls. It was just that yesterday was very warm and somewhat sunny, and I was quite surprised to see snow on the ground this morning. I considered it a bit of a Valentine's gift. Snowy Sundays certainly are a gift, at least in my book. And this one came along at an opportune time, since I can't remember a thing about last night's sit. Nothing. Nadda. So much for mindfulness. I think I had a vague awareness of not being near so focused on the passing of time. Not exactly a Zazen Triumph, to say the least. I can't even remember a single line of the Monkey dialogue, although I'm certain there was some. Now that I'm thinking about it, I could have written my shortest blog to date, but my Waking Monkey Mind (which is actually conducive to being a Prolific Blogger -- that is, if Word Counts matter) came up with something else to write about.

I have a theory about the occurrence of "down days" - those days when weather, illness and other natural and unnatural disasters require us to stay inside - holed up and cut off from the outside world. Though down days can be externally or internally imposed, I interpret them as a whopping big gift from the universe; a wake up call to stop being Human Doings and practice the art of Human BEing. I frequently point out to my clients, especially those too young to remember the Test Pattern days on television, that the "world" used to allow some natural down times for its inhabitants. When I was a little girl, the TV went off at midnight on week nights, and (I can't remember exactly) maybe a little later on weekend nights. Stores were closed on Sundays. With the exception of maybe two gas stations in my city, nothing was open for 24 hours. People had the etiquette and good sense not to call one another after nine p.m. on week days. No texting, IM-ing, e-mailing, surfing the net, or the countless other ways we've found to bother one another round the clock. There was just some quiet time. People slept and went home because there was nothing else to do. It was a beautiful thing.

The times, they are a-changing! I will have so much more to write on this subject in future posts, but for now I think I will just brag about the developing expertise with which I approach my down days. Naturally, I credit zazen. I used to alternate the expenditure of down days with rabid activity (resulting in exhaustion and resentment when the day was over) and virtual slugdom (resulting in exhaustion and resentment when the day was over). Today I struck a balance. Love that Middle Path. On the one side, I slept in and took a magnificent two-hour nap. Since I felt rested, I busted out a couple of minor projects for work on the computer, walked the dogs, worked a puzzle, and watched some kick-ass Olympics. Oh yeah, and consumed a whole bunch of sugar and fat grams. All-in-all, a heckuva a day. And now that it's ending, instead of exhaustion and resentment, I'm feeling tranquil and content. Not enough angst to write a stellar blog, but I bet I sleep good tonight!

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc