Independence Day

Let freedom ring. Let the white dove sing. Let the whole world know that today is a day of reckoning. Let the weak be strong, let the right be wrong. Roll the stone away, let the guilty pay. It's Independence Day. - Martina McBride from "Independence Day."

Day 152. Second day of the Tour. Fourth of July. Perhaps I should have listed those in reverse order. I calls 'em as I sees 'em. I'm pulling hard on the reins of my fingertips not to blog about the Tour. There are other web sites that will be doing that comprehensively.

FOCUS! Dag nabbit! I wrote my entire blog in my mind while I brushed my teeth tonight, and now that I'm at the keyboard, I am drawing a complete blank! Watching Fabian in the yellow jersey will do that to a woman. Let's see if I can get it back: independence day . . . deep meditative states . . . impact of zazen on the intensity (or lack thereof) of my emotions . . . self-conscious when I think of others reading this . . . . . . Ready! Nothing like a bit of free association to steady a girl's mind.

Last night on the cushion I experienced more than two hair's widths of a nanosecond (is mixing measurements as big a breach as mixing metaphors?) in the deep blue space. It really feels like drifting around the aurora borealis. Shades of blue to black, and a momentary sense of leaving mind and body behind. I don't think the sensation lasts long enough to say they "fell away." They can't have fallen very far away, because I immediately come smashing back into my mind and sits bones every time I touch the Blue. My ego is Herculean indeed.

The last five of thirty-five minutes continues to be tortuous. My ankles and feet go numb, and the cacophony of the Monkeys is deafening. They aren't even chattering about substantive topics (believe me, nothing is substantive when compared to the Blue). My mind goes berserk with what the yoga workshop presenter called "future thoughts." It's all a bunch of insignificant prattle like adding to my garden, my son's new summer school semester, remodeling the Norman kitchen. I can't imagine the source of so much opposition and resistance to five more measly minutes. This zazen stuff is funky sometimes.

I often think about my half birthday in August. We know I have a thing about fractions, and "halves" are biggies. It feels like an important milestone to pause, reflect, and evaluate. But "evaluate" what? I haven't missed a single day of blogging or sitting; sometimes I write something halfway comprehensible or at least mildly entertaining; and - oh yeah! - My whole life is currently in flux while I reassess values, priorities, relationships and goals. And by the way, I'm not supposed to be attached to any of this because I am filled to the brim with emptiness and lack of aspiration!

I get self-conscious when the possibility of anyone reading this floats into my awareness. I am acutely aware that, so far, my blog contains precious little sex, violence, action (mountain bike exploits excepted) or drama. Such is Buddhism. In terms of content captivating a widespread readership, this ain't it. Yet, inwardly, this is proving to be the greatest adventure of my life. I think differently. I watch everything, including my mind, excessively, which is the antithesis of what living like the Buddha is supposed to be. Everything is under scrutiny.

It is bewildering to have two seemingly mutually exclusive phenomena occurring simultaneously in my subjective experience (cumbersome sentence - my apologies). Sometimes, my emotions feel muted and smoothed, like the softened edges of a wedding band worn for decades. Other times, there is a crispness and clarity knifing through my thoughts and feelings, resulting in levels of conviction and intensity reminiscent of late-night dorm room conversation. It's as if I'm constantly balanced on the edge of a razor blade, never knowing at any given moment on which side I'll land. This is not particularly conducive to a solid sense of self, but then again - WHAT Self? Losing self is what this whole exertion is about.

Intensity is what comes to mind when I hear Martina McBride sing "Independence Day." Listening to her lyrics over many years has convinced me that she is a strong advocate for the rights of women and children. This song is actually about an abused woman revenging her abuser. Martina sings it with amazing passion. It speaks deeply to me; I always get goose bumps when I hear it. I also belt it out loudly when sitting in the acoustic safety of my car. I am balanced on the razor blade regarding my own independence. There is the side of increasing detachment and autonomy that accompanies long lost clarity in what I want and how I feel (writing books, focusing specifically on giving back to the world, travel, living alone, studying and participating in tribal rituals of many varieties). On the other side there is no independence, and certainly no separateness. I belong to the One. It feels incongruous and narcissistic to even type concepts as centered in Ego as "I want" and "I feel."

This is my year of reckoning. So much to reconcile. Can Big Mind hold it all?

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc