seems like many of the doors i come to don't open so easily. maybe i'll have a bag of groceries: i will park in my space, open the car door, lift out my legs - my right one will occasionally want to be literally lifted out with my hands - pass the cane across, pick up the bag, stand, grasp the cane, butt-bump the car door shut, hobble over to and push open one door and face the 'difficult' one; lean my cane against the wall, maybe put the grocery bag on the floor if it's particularly heavy, and fish out the key chain from my left pocket. i wave the fob in front of the magic square that knows me, and hear its beep of recognition. i pull the door open - but it's rather heavy; actually, not so much heavy as hard to open, and hard to keep open as it tries to slam shut. i wedge in my foot so it doesn't, pick up my cane and bag, and elbow my way into the basement hallway to press the elevator button.
i will hope that the nearest of three elevators opens. i hear the ping recognized throughout the otis civilized world. and while consistent with murphy's law, the furthest elevator door usually opens; i think this has more to do with the artificial (that is to say lack of, or dumb) intelligence written into the software of the elevator system. why, i wonder, does the furthest elevator - by default - get sent down to the very lowest basement level? at each floor, this elevator door is the closest to only one - i repeat, just one - apartment unit. the other several dozen units, including ours, are closer by several steps to the other two elevator doors. after another ping, i arrive at the fifteenth floor, and begin my hobble to yet another door at the end of a hall - home at last.
maxwell smart, after his seamless intro will bungle through various crises, and usually, as i recall, come through with his self-esteem fully intact - though we in the tv audience are given to know just what a fool he really is. or maybe i'm confusing this a bit with the recent movie adaptation starring steve carell. these memories of the tv show are pretty rusty of course - those of the recent movie aren't so clear either, for that matter.
in either case, let us proceed... i posit here that in fact agent 86 is a wise and evolved being, though this may require a major reinvention of his character: meet maxwell smart, 2.0, boddhisatva. and here is his lesson for me:
these doors that don't open automatically, the ones i seem to stress and fumble through - the actual physical doors acting as proxies for all the obstacles (physical or otherwise) i might face each day: can these hurdles become invitations to slow down and drop into this precious moment? as i bustle through my self-important agenda, can i allow these obstacles to reveal their hidden invitations? or will they retain their seeming primacy as hurdles, or problems to get past, or to resolve asap?
these doors that don't open automatically, the ones i seem to stress and fumble through - the actual physical doors acting as proxies for all the obstacles (physical or otherwise) i might face each day: can these hurdles become invitations to slow down and drop into this precious moment? as i bustle through my self-important agenda, can i allow these obstacles to reveal their hidden invitations? or will they retain their seeming primacy as hurdles, or problems to get past, or to resolve asap?
thich nhat hanh consciously allows certain randomly recurring events - the ring of a telephone say, or a red traffic light - to act as reminders to come into this moment, this breath, this sip of café au lait, this beignet with a dusting of powdered sugar (made by my girlfriend who brought the mix up from a recent trip to new orleans). or perhaps the headache that i've successfully ignored all morning, it having gradually built with the tension of my passing hours of working through a pile of bills (also a potential invitation). can such an ache be brought to a larger all-inclusive awareness? or perhaps to a specific insight: namely, the inexorable link between this pain behind my eyes, and the stressed tightness in my facial muscles - the one a manifestation of the other?
we are invited to take note, pay attention; as the buddhist monk ajahn sumedho suggests, we can say 'it's like this.' (i prefer to ask 'what's it like?' whereas this is virtually the same mantra, i find questions in general to lead deeper than a declaration, with its full stop. and the question 'what's it like?' also brings to my mind the ancient image of a monty python skit; eric idle prattling on with 'nudge nudge, wink wink, say no more...' a tangent here that has taken us already well beyond the outer limit of my topic... but tell me, really, 'is she a sport?') ahem, where was i?
right. will such awareness open up and resolve the headache, melt it in the laser beam of my insight? perhaps. what is virtually guaranteed will be an opening to what is right here and now. at least momentarily: will it sooner or later close up, get lost in distraction, worry, planning, regret, daydreaming? unlike the weather, you can bet on it. but like the weather, i can sometimes find a place where the patterns moving through me seem less 'personal' or 'out to get me' or 'why does this always happen to me?' maybe it's just a spring shower...
the sun is shining today. the birds chirping their spring song loud and clear. will it rain again, or get cold, perhaps even bring a snowmageddon? of course. but will i blame myself for that? that would be silly, no? (anthropogenic climate change notwithstanding...) let me open to a non-judgmental awareness of my internal weather patterns. i think this is the non-attachment the buddha spoke of. he didn't mean don't get rained on - or lost in grief, anger, and worry: these are givens. just be aware that they are as fleeting as the weather. be fully with them when they are here, touch into the breath - or some anchor of right now - then be open to the next storm when it blows in. or delicious bite of praline.
and allow that next red light, or challenging door, or headache, or beignet - that is, every last blessed or cursed thing i see or hear or feel or taste or think - become my invitation into the miracle, the solid gold 'buddha nature' we all carry within, even as deeply encrusted as it so often seems.
the sun is shining today. the birds chirping their spring song loud and clear. will it rain again, or get cold, perhaps even bring a snowmageddon? of course. but will i blame myself for that? that would be silly, no? (anthropogenic climate change notwithstanding...) let me open to a non-judgmental awareness of my internal weather patterns. i think this is the non-attachment the buddha spoke of. he didn't mean don't get rained on - or lost in grief, anger, and worry: these are givens. just be aware that they are as fleeting as the weather. be fully with them when they are here, touch into the breath - or some anchor of right now - then be open to the next storm when it blows in. or delicious bite of praline.
and allow that next red light, or challenging door, or headache, or beignet - that is, every last blessed or cursed thing i see or hear or feel or taste or think - become my invitation into the miracle, the solid gold 'buddha nature' we all carry within, even as deeply encrusted as it so often seems.
but wait, did i miss that moment? this one? it's okay, i can forgive myself, love myself - even the part that judges myself - and begin again. this too is an invitation to the power of now.
it seems there is always another chance to get smart like agent 86.
this is just what i needed to read tonight.
ReplyDeletethank you.