Blown Away

Mountains should be climbed with as little effort as possible and without desire. The reality of your own nature should determine the speed. If you become restless, speed up. If you become winded, slow down. You climb the mountain in an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion. Then, when you're no longer thinking ahead, each footstep isn't just a means to an end but a unique event in itself. - Robert Pirsig in the Zen Calendar (May 5, 2003)

Day 58. My mind and body have fallen away . . . . . .


































April Fools! I KNOW the Buddha must have a really great sense of humor because he smiles so much. For better or worse, my body and mind are very much with me. Darn the luck!

The EZ Riders formally train on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday with a recovery ride on Sunday. Our events start next Saturday. My hunch is that, at least for these first couple of weeks, the "Cycle" part of CycleBuddhaDoc will be paramount (it is, after all, first in the screen name. Hmmmmm, I never thought about that before -- wonder if this is diagnostic?)

Today we were, literally, almost blown away. We rode fifteen miles due south directly into an insane headwind. I was on the tandem, which means we pulled the entire way. Our team was grateful for the draft and rode like demons (well rested demons at that) with the tail wind all the way back. I, on the other hand, feel battered and ragged and a little insane myself. When we become winded on the bike, we don't necessarily slow down. That's right; we ride through it! Robert Pirsig's idea of maintaining an equilibrium between restlessness and exhaustion sounds like a much better way of riding. The polarized experience of pedaling until I'm near death and then collapsing into consummate exhaustion is wearing.

When exerting that much effort, I am reduced to breath, sweat, and pedal cadence. The exertion feels almost violent if I let it, or I can surrender to the strain and get lost in it. Experience has taught me to surrender sooner rather than later. That must be why some of us "oldies" on the team can still chase and catch the testosterone driven youth. Energy gets allocated perfectly; we don't expend an iota on anything that isn't absolutely required to propel those two wheels forward. No fuel is wasted on cerebral activity. As beings, we are reduced to raw physicality.

I suspect this ride taught me something transferable to my cushion. I can use my body as a way station to transcend my mind. I recall from sitting with my sangha that, early in a zazen session, it is very useful to concentrate deeply on physical sensations. The erectness of my spine, the crown of my head being pulled upward, the contours of my body coming into contact with my cushion, the swoosh of breath through my mudra. Each of these sensations "isn't just a means to an end but a unique event in itself." If I am fully paying attention to these minute bodily details, I bet my mind will be quieted. Just like on my bike, I won't waste energy on cerebral activity.

I will sit five minutes longer tonight. Now, if I can just discover the way station to transcend the rest of me.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc