One Perfect Day

The best things in life are nearest. Breath in your nostrils, light in your eyes, flowers at your feet, duties at your hand, the path of right just before you. - Robert Louis Stevenson in the Zen Calendar (May 26, 2006).

Day 257. Closing in on the end of one perfect day. I am taking the liberty of writing a blog that closely resembles a journal entry. Please indulge me. This day was absolutely worth remembering.

The best things in life were very near to me today. During the morning I did much cup washing - in fact, I tidied my house with Zen Mind, Beginners' Mind. Approaching housecleaning tasks with mindfulness and calm, rather than my customary frenzied whirling and attitude of detestation, resulted in a welcoming home flooded with sunshine and warm breezes wafting through the windows, which I'd thrown open to admit the gentle day. Even my plants were smiling as I received the British guests in my home for the first time. Jim surprised me with a painting he had done of the two of us tramping through the Yorkshire Dales. I was ecstatic, and have already become deathly attached to it.

We had a light lunch in my sunny kitchen as lively banter was batted across the table. Then we ditched my parents for a trip to the Museum of Natural History. As we toured the extraordinary exhibit halls, I felt uncannily proud to be an Oklahoman. Not to mention I learned more about ancient and recent history (about 250 million years' worth) in two hours than I did in the 12 hours of college credit I took on related subjects. Gassho to the museum curators and exhibit creators.

Next we took a town tour during which I had to repeatedly batten down my ego due to mounting pride for the city in which I reside. Viewing it through the eyes of foreigners transported me to Beginners' mind as I, too, delighted in the novelties my guests pointed out. I would not have guessed a family that has traveled all over the world would ask me to stop so they could take a photo of our local Pumpkin Patch (like the ones sponsored by just about every church in Oklahoma during the last two weeks of October). I learned that they do not construct Pumpkin Patches in Great Britain, though Halloween is catching on (despite the fact that the Queen definitely does not approve).

We picked up the parents and went to my favorite local restaurant for Tea. Interestingly, everyone ordered coffee (the better to wash down our enormous desserts) except Charlotte, who, like a proper Okie, ordered iced tea. Conversation flowed over an undercurrent of love borne of perfect compatibility and an awareness that these times together are Treasured Moments. Fully lived and remembered always. I have an unfathomable, incomprehensible connection to my British Dear Ones. I only know that our time together fills me with a bliss comparable to those astonishing moments of connection on the cushion. Sometimes it takes my breath away.

We bade one another farewell in the late afternoon, and I headed for a practice ride on the tandem. Seems my (former) captain and I have committed to a tandem event in a couple of weeks. I must admit it is gratifying to have established ourselves so strongly in the world of tandems that we warrant invitations to events that, only a year ago, we didn't know existed. Not that I have attachment to my cycling performance. Not that I invest ego in riding alongside some of the strongest teams in the nation. Not that I aspire for a good showing.

My legs, weary from yesterday's tramp, pleasantly surprised me this evening. Strip away the relational rubbish and we are Beasts on the bike. We rode like a rocket as the gorgeous fall day drew to a close. The slanting sun painted everything with the soft, golden hues of autumn. I stayed in Beginner's Mind as I pedaled, my senses on fire with heartbreaking crispness and clarity. The evening shimmered as we glided through the warm, musty air like a schooner in full sail. I chanted in Japanese when we climbed, and the syllables sent unprecedented jolts of power to my legs. Breathing deeply through my nostrils and any other orifice admitting oxygen, I inhaled the scent of dry leaves and freshly baled hay. I rode in perfect synchronization with my captain, and was reminded of the astounding way our cycling talent combines. The setting sun was fire orange as we pulled into the driveway.

The best things in life are nearest. You don't even have to reach for them. Just open your eyes and SEE! They've been there all along.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc