Intervals of Life

The important matter of life and death, everything is impermanent. - Inscription on a wooden temple bell from the Zen Calendar (December 31, 2001).

Day 191. You can feel the state of Oklahoma collectively holding its breath, waiting for this heat to break. It will break before we do. After all, we survived the Dust Bowl. At least some of our closest relatives did.

It was too hot to ride outside today, so I did my interval DVD on the trainer. I concluded that interval training is the best life preparation there is. I further concluded that cycling can provide a metaphor for EVERY - bar none - life circumstance that has ever been or ever will be.

After a ten minute warm-up, this particular DVD has three five-minute "power intervals" during which you pedal all out - at a cadence and intensity that is higher than you could possibly sustain for a second beyond five minutes. It's supposed to prepare you for time trialing, which I doubt I will ever do, but it makes me feel like a cyclist to train for it just in case. As I sweated and panted and suffered through the intervals tonight, I thought about surviving this week in particular and this summer in general. It occurred to me that I have endured three power intervals, just like on the DVD.

The first interval was the surgeon's decision not to clear my son to return to football. The interval required support and compassion and patience and a sound listening ear as he grappled with this unanticipated blow. Not to mention finding alternative testosterone discharging mechanisms since he couldn't hit anybody. The second interval consisted of amassing funds to quell his school's insistence that the summer term (the semester where he didn't first procure financial aid - the one required because he planned to play football in the fall) be paid for or his fall enrollment would be dropped. After sharing a household with him for the past two weeks, I CERTAINLY want him to return to college. I thought about selling him on EBay as a fund-raising strategy; however, that would defeat the purpose of paying for his school. Decisions, decisions. The third interval was the loss of Tom. I am pedaling through it.

When pedaling the literal intervals, I try to stay just this side of stroking out. So far I have succeeded. They are painful and effortful and resplendent with suffering. The only thing that keeps me turning the cranks is the knowledge that the interval will end in five minutes, whereupon a five minute easy spin ensues before the next tortuous interval. This is life. It transpires in intervals. Usually they are not conveniently measured out in succinct, symmetrical time periods, but there are intervals nonetheless.

When I think about difficult, painful segments of my life (current and future), they feel survivable when I approach them as intervals. Separate but connected, interrelated, impermanent intervals. Zazen helps tremendously with this approach. I can't count how many times I have been in the midst of a challenging task and bumped into that moment when I wanted to wad it all up and throw it away. I think about the last five minutes of those horrific 35-minute sitting sessions, and - Voila! I am instantly confident I can survive anything. We all have our yardstick of comparison. Mine happens to be sitting still during the last minutes of zazen before the timer sounds - those minutes when the Monkeys chatter incessantly about my numb legs, aching back, and sagging mudra.

I have much more to say about intervals, but need to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I have a long drive tomorrow. I plan to approach it in intervals.

Gassho,

CycleBuddhaDoc