Gifts From the Day

The days come and go like muffled and veiled figures sent from a distant party, but they say nothing, and if we do not use the gifts they bring, they carry them as silently away. - Ralph Waldo Emerson in the Zen Calendar (December 30, 2007).

Day 202. Past blogs have hinted that Monday is generally not my favorite day of the week. Especially Mondays when the Xterra temperature gauge reads 111 degrees. Today was an exception.

Even before reading Mr. Emerson's quote, I managed to recognize some gifts the day brought. A client who, over a year ago, took a courageous leap to leave a stifling and oppressive job at a nearby university phoned to say she had been offered a job at a prominent company in our area and would be leaving for several weeks to train in another state. My client was elated. What a gift that company is receiving; she will be a valuable asset to them.

A second gift from the day followed when my company was taken out to lunch by the new medical directors of a prestigious eating disorders inpatient facility to which we often refer. They said they had heard, " . . . nothing but good about (us)." If their hospital was hurting for patients, I might have been tempted to dismiss the comment as superfluous marketing. The fact that they are internationally known and usually have a lengthy waiting list suggested that the compliment was genuine. Positive feedback from a credible source is one of my very favorite gifts. When graciously received, they don't even have to be unwrapped.

Perhaps the greatest gift was discovering a little bit of energy left at the end of my work day. A rare event indeed! I was taking a day off from the bike, and seized the opportunity to clean out a couple more orifices in my home. The longer I sit zazen, the more important it seems not to own much. Empty drawer space is incredibly liberating. As I sorted tonight, I kept thinking about the devastating floods in Pakistan. I suspect that many of Greg Mortenson's schools were washed away. If you can imagine having absolutely NOTHING - NOT a THING - it makes it much easier to part with stuff. So much of what occupies space is nonessential. What we keep speaks volumes about who we are. So does what we give away. This year is teaching me that emptiness - within and without - may be our highest virtue.

I am preoccupied with an obsessive need to "get stuff where it belongs." No doubt my OCD neurons are a-clanging, but I want to believe that I am also bringing some mindfulness to my cleaning projects. There are about four major recipients of my donations, and I invest a hefty amount of energy in determining who gets what. I donate anonymously, so I don't think my obsession is about recognition for what I give (my ego continues to make pronounced cameo appearances, but I don't think this is one of them). It feels more like a sincere desire to direct things where they can be put to the most use. Excess and waste are antithetical to Zen practice. "Fit" and "just the right amount" seem to be at the heart of it.

Be mindful about what you keep and what you part with. Be observant of these same practices in the people around you. Hanging on speaks volumes. Letting go says even more.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc