The Wealth of Sanity

"I used to assume that the direction of 'progress' was somehow inevitable, not to be questioned . . . I passively accepted a new road through the middle of the park, a steel-and-glass bank where a 200-year-old church had stood . . . and the fact that life seemed to get harder and faster with each day. I do not anymore. In Ladakh I have learned that there is more than one path into the future and I have had the privilege to witness another, saner, way of life - a pattern of existence based on the coevolution between human beings and the earth. . . I have seen that community and a close relationship with the land can enrich human life beyond all comparison with material wealth or technological sophistication. I have learned that another way is possible." - Helena Norberg-Hodge in Ancient Futures, quoted in Three Cups of Tea by Greg Mortenson and David Oliver Relin.

Day 158. I rode my bike for the first time in 10 days. I KNOW I am not the only cyclist to imagine Phil Liggett and Paul Sherwin announcing my performance at the Tour de France as I pedal along. I am, however, probably the only one who would admit it. According to Phil and Paul's commentary in my head, I won today's stage. In the mountains. I have a very active fantasy life.

I am studying Three Cups of Tea as if I will take comprehensive exams on it. I have referred to the map of Pakistan and Afghanistan in the front of the book so many times that I am considering becoming a tour guide in the region (right after I purchase my Land Cruiser). It is an amazing read for so many reasons. The characters become people you would recognize at a bus stop. Greg Mortenson's clarity and certainty that the way to end terrorism is through education, especially among girls, makes the dollars spent on bombs as absurd as the gallons of oil mucking up the Gulf. The masses don't consider root causes. The consideration and contemplation required to understand the unavoidable complexity of human behavior takes time and patience - neither of which are in abundant supply in Western culture. So we keep reflexively firing bombs and missiles - literally and metaphorically - at anything we fear and misunderstand. At the governmental level, learning from history appears to happen about as fast as me pursuing enlightenment.

The quote from Helena Norberg-Hodge resonated like a high voltage electric shock. There are so many occasions when I feel like I have been severed from my tribe because I don't want to own things, and I drive an old car, live in a small house, and avoid electronic means of connecting (present endeavor excepted). Frequently, I feel like a failure to my gender because I hate being "worked" on, resulting in unpainted nails, rarely styled hair, minimal makeup and clothes from the 80's. I don't watch much TV, miss just about every movie Hollywood touts, and my IPOD has less than 200 songs on it.

I like looking at the stars and the smell of dirt. I like dwelling in time that is not measured by a clock. I can stare at the flames in a fire pit all night long. I like reading books that I hold in my hand. I like the sound of tree frogs and crickets and locusts. I like laying on the floor with Ruby, staring into her golden eyes and scratching her belly until we're in a trance. I like conversations with contented people, especially when they teach me things. I like empty drawers and closet space and broad expanses of natural wood flooring. I like surfaces of polished furniture with nothing on them.

It has been fascinating to watch my appetite change as I continue to regularly sit. The longer I sit, the more I want to eat rice and drink tea. I find myself increasingly desiring foods consisting of one ingredient. Nuts, seeds, raisins, oatmeal. Vegetables dipped in humus. Pieces of fruit and a glass of water. Greek yogurt. Cooked beans, eggs and quinoa. Dietitians throughout the land are declaring this to be the healthy and preferred way we should eat. That has nothing to do with my choices; in fact, historically I have always rebelled at eating the "right" way because it irrationally felt like I was submitting to authority. Until now, I have been barely conscious of the gradual changes in what I choose to eat. The echoes of zazen are mysterious and far reaching. I am subtly gravitating toward the primitive and basic. Returning to the earth. Instinctively, I am selecting simplicity over complexity, primal over cerebral, ancient over modern. Simultaneously, I feel happy. Solid. Clear.

I know my tribe is out there. Maybe my blog will reconnect me, and I will chuckle at the irony of technology assisting me with finding my way precisely as I write about shunning it. If this is my path into the future, it feels saner and truer, like the culture Norberg-Hodge describes. Co-existing closely with the earth and my clan feels like an inevitable consequence of my zazen practice. I've never striven for material wealth. Now I know why. There are riches that far surpass it.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc