This One's For Me

The whole world is you. Yet you keep thinking there is something else. - Hsueh-Feng in the Zen Calendar (August 18, 2007).

Day 219. I rode alone this evening. Two horrid, careless, dangerous drivers came terrifyingly close to running me off the road. They are always driving pickups. Large, American-made pickup trucks. I desperately want to have this particular prejudice challenged, but it never, ever is. I will not be doing Metta meditation for them tonight, since it wasn't loving kindness that cursed through my veins as I swerved to avoid tumbling into a ditch. I know if there was an ethical way to execute the methodology, results of a survey would indicate at a statistically significant level that these drivers have smaller than average penises. This would, perhaps, be a socially relevant dissertation topic, though I doubt you could get the proposal through an Internal Review Board.

I cannot concentrate because I am still seething with anger and adrenaline from my bike ride. After feeling fast, strong and light during rides over the past couple of weeks, I was disappointed with how I rode today. I felt sluggish and weak. I could not seem to summon an iota of physical or mental energy. The humidity and bug density were particularly annoying. The Monkeys chattered incessantly, maintaining a steady stream of fury, negativity and criticism. It was a relief to pull into my driveway.

At some point during a lengthy, cool shower I issued a mild directive to the profane primates. To be exact, it was worded, "Shut the hell up." Without consciously deciding to do so, I began an internal monologue of gratitude and appreciation toward myself. It went something like this:

"So far this year, you have done an amazing job with your commitment to sit zazen and write a blog every single day. It hasn't been easy. On the contrary, some days have been incredibly tough. You never tossed your timer, somehow managing to hang in there each and every evening until it sounded. You honored the schedule you established to gradually increase the time allocated to meditation. The tasks have been daunting, yet you brought sincere intent each time you approached them. You remembered your bows. You've chanted. You've read. You've attended a new sangha. You sat through loud hotels, the Xterra jarring along an interstate, leg cramps, numb feet, an occasional wretchedly stiff spine, collapsing mudras, profuse Monkey distraction, and the sound of mice scurrying behind the drywall a foot from your face.

"You have endured fatigue, rage, boredom, senselessness, fear, bewilderment, skepticism, grief, hopelessness, confusion and despair on that cushion. You sat through it. Kept breathing. Tried to write honestly (and in grammatically correct sentences!) about it. You continue to tango with your obstinate ego, and more frequently challenge its mischievous tenacity. You've tenderly nursed the dinosaur, and hoisted your thesaurus and dictionary so many times they may name a new form of carpal tunnel syndrome after you.

"All this while simultaneously living a life. Parenting a child. Owning a business. Maintaining intent and commitment to be an ethical and effective psychologist. Recovering from heat stroke, and battling back on the bike to become a damn respectable cyclist. Participating in friendships. Driving less; walking more. Wasting less; recycling more. Clearing clutter. Donating mindfully. Bringing action into balance with values. Clarifying goals. Being in the moment. Wringing the guts out of here-and-now."

At the Sunday sangha meditation, Arpita repeatedly reminded us that compassion begins with loving kindness toward Self. All compassionate acts originate from establishing an internal love. We cannot direct healing outwardly if we are contemptuous within. This state of self love is vastly different from narcissistic ego. It is validation and acceptance of our highest self, which is the necessary precursor to expressing loving kindness to others.

Send an outpouring of love and kindness inwardly. It is the greatest gift you can offer. To yourself, and to all of the world.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc