Claritin Clear

She considered this fact as she watched him go, and she felt something shift inside her body - relief, it felt like, enormous and settled, like a pile of stones on a steep slope suddenly shifting and tumbling slightly into the angle of repose. The pounding of What do I want went still in her breast. It didn't matter what she chose. The world was what it was, a place with its own rules of hunger and satisfaction. Creatures lived and mated and died, they came and went, as surely as summer did. They would go their own ways, of their own accord. - Barbara Kingsolver in "Prodigal Summer."

Day 189. These are not easy days. The summer heat is interminable. Intolerable. And yet, what are we going to do? Ride through it. Pray through it. Whine through it. Sit through it. Breathe through it. Whatever it takes. I am so grateful to Barbara Kingsolver for writing a novel that speaks to me so deeply at this moment in my life. I think I'll find her blog and let her know.

I just completed plans for a trip to Durango this weekend to attend Tom's memorial service. It's about a month sooner than I envisioned making that drive. Definitely different circumstances. Dana said she has wonderful help planning the service from the hundreds of Tom's friends who live in Durango. They are worried about finding a big enough venue. That's the kind of man he was. Something for all of us to think about. What size venue will be required for our memorial service? I want to reflect upon that without ego. Challenging, indeed. Interesting that Tom had the least ego of just about any person I know. It is reassuring to observe that, in this case, a large venue is necessary because of someone's kindness and goodness, not frivolous popularity.

Blogging is hard right now. Sitting is not. In fact, it feels like about the only place I want to be. Sitting, breathing, surrendering thought to raw, primal feeling brings with it a dim flicker of hope. Hope that pain passes. Hope that such a powerful reminder of how precious life is will compel us to live our own lives passionately and mindfully. Hope that we can let go of the small things that muddy our relationships and focus on love and connection instead. Hope that we say, "I love you" to the people that matter to us often and with deep sincerity. Hope that a growing commitment to contribute to peaceful solutions rather than violent, fearful reactions will permeate our consciousness. Tom and the other members of the humanitarian convoy didn't die in vain. Their deaths should not be our focus. It's their lives that matter.

I don't understand exactly how grief and my zazen practice are interacting. It feels like a synergistic energy is reverberating between the two. Grief intensifies zazen, which loops around to contain grief. That''s all I know for right now. Zazen is about being mindful, present, and aware. Grief seems to have accentuated these processes for me. On the bike tonight, my sensory input was like an HD television movie with the contrast turned up too brightly and the surround sound tuned too loud. My nerve endings feel exposed without the benefit of skin as a buffer. As I prepared an omelet following my ride, I was stunned by the colors of the vegetables I chopped. The green of the broccoli, the red of the tomatoes, the orange carrots and the smokey gray mushrooms smashed my retina like in those 1960's acid trips we read about. I'm not sure what to make of it. All these months I've been practicing mindfulness and being in the here-and-now. Now that it is happening, I feel funky. It's a little surreal. It feels like that layer of film that peels back in the Claritin commercial keeps lifting and laying back down of its own accord. I have no control over it. Sometimes I am in a haze, and sometimes things are blindingly clear. Unnerving to say the least.

I'm headed for the cushion now. It feels like the safest place to be.

Gassho,

CycleBuddhaDoc