Leveled by a Sneeze

Plucking chrysanthemums along the east fence;
Gazing in silence at the Southern Hills,
The birds flying home in pairs
Through the soft mountain air of dusk -
In these things there is a deep meaning
But when we try to express it,
We suddenly forget the words. - Tao Ch'ien in the Zen Calendar (October 14, 2006).

The violets in the mountains have broken the rocks. - Tenessee Williams in the Zen Calendar (September 23, 2006).

Who can be a wild deer among deserted mountains
happy with grass and pines. - Han-Shan in the Zen Calendar (September 5, 2006).

The whole moon and sky come to rest in a single dewdrop on a blade of grass. - Dogen in the Zen Calendar (August 27, 2006).

There is pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is rapture in the lonely shore,
There is society where none intrudes,
By the deep sea, and music is its roar.
I love not man the less, but nature more. - Lord Byron in the Zen Calendar (October 27, 2006).

Day 278. This is very interesting. I knew I wanted to go to my category of pages from the Zen Calendar marked "Nature" to find a quote for tonight, because I have been in the thick of nature for the past three days. I couldn't decide on one quote, so I plucked out five that I especially liked. As I typed them in, I noticed they are all dated between August and October of 2006. Coincidence? I think not. It is particularly intriguing because my saved pages are not, by a long stretch, in chronological order. There are several years of selected pages scattered all around the blogging area. Some have been roughly categorized; many are randomly stacked in little piles around my desk. Perhaps the editors of the 2006 edition of the Zen Calendar were really outdoorsy. Like me!

I am newly home from the Womble. Bruises continue to float to my skin's surface. Somehow the visible evidence of my wipeouts is making them hurt more. I feel like a child who gets a boo-boo but doesn't cry unless and until she sees the blood. When I mentioned to my son that I have a bruise the size of Africa on my right thigh, his reply was, "At least you don't have a bruise the size of Asia." I thanked him for the geography lesson, and noted that a boo-boo on your body the size of ANY continent deserves a couple of, "There, there's." Or at least an "Ah, honey." He is, however, the fruit of my loins, so it is highly likely that he will politely look away until I recover. That way, he doesn't have to feel awkward for his negligence.

For the past two nights I meditated in the little loft of a riverside cabin in Oden, Arkansas (population 220: Saaaaa-lute!) The interior of the cabin was entirely covered in lovely pine paneling. My downcast eyes rested on a little knot in the pine, which seemed very conducive to a peaceful state of meditation. That, and my state of complete exhaustion. Focusing on my breath was daunting, since each one rumbled over the painful, aching section of ribs that absorbed one of my Launch and Thuds. Maybe not so much the Launch, but most definitely the Thud. It was great practice at not being attached to my pain. Or the cessation of it. Good thing, since after 40 minutes of breath watching, the pain was still very much present. I must admit, that much physical hurt taking up space on the cushion made it feel a bit crowded. I did my best to (not) strive for emptiness, but the ache wouldn't budge. So we sat there together until the timer sounded. I'm pretty sure my bow was crooked. That's okay. I'm not attached to straight bows.

My experience on the mountain bike was quite different from the ones I blogged about in early Spring. I didn't blog as I rode. The Monkeys chattered away about the scenery, and maintained an ongoing commentary about my riding. The difference was that I didn't have thoughts about my thoughts. All the cerebral action just flowed on through and out of my mind. The trail kept passing beneath my tires, nature shone and strutted and shouted her most brilliant autumn encore, and I just lived each moment. One right after the other.

I am officially prematurely terminating this blog. I just sneezed and it about killed me. I'm assuming it is impossible to sneeze without some form of rib involvement. Bummer. It really hurts. Guess it's going to be crowded on the cushion again tonight.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc