The Alcove: Chapter 14

Chapter 14

As time has a tendency to do, seconds ticked by, then minutes, then hours, then days and then weeks.  And as I figured, the spring semester ended and I sadly closed Hegel and Marx and James and Spinoza but I kept Suzuki slightly opened and sitting on my night-stand.  I felt that great relief that comes with completion.  That feeling of having walked a long way and finally getting to soak your road worn feet.  I knew my studies were incomplete.  It would take a lifelong meditation to understand Hegel but my first semester of life was done and I was feeling good.  It really would take a life to study anything because integrated in that study is your experience, interpretation, application and so forth, all of which in steady flux, and so a real study of anything or anyone evolves like any process.  It’s not a start where you don’t understand to an end where you do.  It’s a constant wave, flowing and changing, and so study becomes not simply about a subject but also about your relationship to it at a particular time.  You’re never a master but just at different levels of understanding, all of which reflecting the one studied as much as the one studying.  I felt, as I reflected on this, that this may be at the essence of a beginner’s mind.

Oh, we Americans want things so quick.  A burger and fries get dumped in our oily hands so fast you don’t even conceive of the life span of a cow and how many days that is, or how long it takes for a potato to sprout.  That food is gobbled right down quicker than it takes to peel the potato, much less water it.  The idea of studying a great philosopher and making a lifelong meditation of it can sound downright tedious or perhaps pointless.  It brings in no cash flow, no beach front property.  But if we can learn one thing from our wise German mindfriend, it’s that man’s potential is reached through his labor.  Through consistency, dedication, passionate labor.  Dirtying one’s hands in soil is not unlike getting filthy in a book, though I suspect a balance between the two is ideal.  A calloused hand and a tired mind makes for good, sound sleep and an overall sense of accomplishment.

So school was out and Paige and I were packing up our apartment, ready to head south for hot shorts wearing flip-flop weekends lying belly first in the warm granules of Pacific Beach, San Diego.  And I was thinking about my trip up Jacinto and how I would be making it to the very top this time precisely because I wouldn’t be trying so hard.  To be more precise, the object of this upcoming trip was to be on that dusty trail, not to make it to the tundra.  I felt deep inside that this is the only attitude to take if you actually wanted to get to the top.  A mountain climb should not be a struggle, but a peaceful retreat.  And should it rain on me and drive me down via mudslide and avalanche I would sit at its base, look up and give that mountain all my love because I’d let go of my expectations, my goals, my desire.  I felt at this moment that should I get in a car accident and never make it to Idyllwild I’d still be happy, even with a broken down car and a fractured elbow.  I just wanted to live and living I’d do.

So San Jacinto was bound to be a completely different experience, one taken by a man further in his studies, further in his life, further in his potential for experiencing deep love.  I was a man further in life - still naive, still a walker, a pilgrim, still having miles to go and still unsure of his destination.  But surely ahead of where he was and surely motivated and strong to walk further.

Paige and I smiled at each other and it was obvious she felt the same way.  Me and my Bikkhu pals - a dusty road, worn down sandals, blistered feet, and smiles like the sun - a long purple pink sunset like tribal music and flowers.