Walking Backwards

Thinking is more interesting than knowing, but less interesting than looking. - Goethe in the Zen Calendar (March 1, 2009)

Day 26. February has, at last, come to an end. Whew. . . .

I dread the days when nothing is pressing to be blogged. I still feel a little surprised when something from my zen practice doesn't rush in to save the day when I'm blue, or bored, or crabby. Great. Yet another reminder of my failure to master "non-attainment." It's just that when it's good, it is very, very good, and when it's bad, it is horrid. I'm developing highly unrealistic goals for myself. That is, if you consider writing something brilliant every single day, always being wise, patient, compassionate and insightful, and remaining aware, non-attached and unceasingly in the moment as unrealistic goals.

My sitting session was restless and distracted and protracted last night. I just kept thinking, "Is it over yet? Is it over yet? Is it over yet?" and then felt terrible at the obvious ramification: I DO look at my meditation with a critical eye, an evaluative attitude, and the teeniest bit of attachment to moving a shade closer to Nirvana every time I assume the lotus position. I "know" the emptiness and non-attachment with which I've been taught to approach zazen; but I think about it nonetheless.

I chose tonight's quote because it connected with a couple of observations I had while walking my dogs in the woods today. We went to the trails where I'm usually racing along on my mountain bike. As if walking wasn't enough of a perspective change, we chose to go in the opposite direction so that we could yield to oncoming cyclists. Everything sure looked different. I've ridden those trails dozens of times, and realized today that I seldom "look" (of course, when you're on the bike, it behooves you to focus pretty exclusively on the next eight feet of trail). It was overcast, and muddy from the recent snow and rain. The trees were all leafless, and the branches stood out starkly against the sky. The ground was littered with fallen trees and broken branches from the ice storms, and lots of standing water pooled in the gullies. It was gloriously untidy.

While riding my bike, these trails have become so familiar and routine I know precisely where I am at any given moment. There were several occasions on today's walk when I paused, looked around, and had no idea where I was. I liked it. I'm usually concentrating on riding fast, covering ground, getting to the next mile marker and the next and the next. The typical Western focus on product rather than process. On destination rather than journey. On achievement, speed, technique, success. Today I just walked along with my partner and our two very happy dogs. No hurry, no destination, no time limits. We just hung out. And I looked a lot. Had the awareness that you can approach very familiar ground from a different direction, and you see entirely new things. Seeing things anew can catalyze unaccustomed thoughts. I suspect that fresh thinking may precipitate change in action.

What a beautiful sequence: new approach, new vision, fresh thinking, changed action. I should walk my trails backwards more often.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc