Today, was one of the best days to ride a motorcycle on Kauai. It felt like I was being embraced by the arms of perfection. I had one terrible problem. The cheap speakers on my mobile sound system decided to crap out last week and while I wait for some high class replacements, I am riding in silence. It was me and my thoughts, without being able to sing Hall and Oates, Rich Girl, at the top of my lungs.
In one of my earlier stories, I talked about taking singing lessons and what a surprise it was. Only after two lessons, I listen to music differently and it is hard to explain the why. I don’t want to mimic the vocals anymore and try and find my voice. I remember some of Dolly’s instructions about trying to speak the music, extending the vowel sounds by opening my mouth and letting my voice explode with a new kind of freedom.
When I got ready to ride on this day with light as sharp as cut glass, I knew it was just going to be me and Flaming Lips, without my Sunday soundtrack. I wondered what I would end up thinking about and if I would write when I got home. My birthday was only a mere four days ago and I had a ball writing about it, making fun of myself, one of my favorite sports. It is also a time for reflection and the older I have gotten, the more introspective the occasion makes me.
A few days ago, in between my birthday and now, I had a conversation with a lovely young woman, definitely in her early twenties. She was newly arrived on the island and began asking me questions about where to find a Buddhist temple to meditate and what yoga was available. The first thing that grabbed my attention was how earnest she was and how fresh she appeared. In the midst of trying to answer her, I realized how little I knew about what goes on in the spiritual world outside myself. I felt so incredibly inept, because the older I have gotten, the more internal my journey has become.
Since that sweet conversation, it has been on my mind and I knew it would find a way to surface the next time I sat down, which would be right now. The past few mornings, it has been with me during my Zen time on the cushion. Following the sit, I have also thought about it, while I did my yoga practice, unchanged and solo for at least twenty-five years.
When you are young, you have to reach outside yourself, because that is how you learn. I certainly didn’t get to be older without being younger. Now, there is a real keeper of a thought! I have always been a private kind of character and my interest has always been to find a path for myself. I loved learning about the Buddha on a terribly basic level and sat with others, knowing i would eventually sit by myself. It was the same for yoga. I was incredibly fortunate to be introduced to the practice by a very gifted teacher and I focused on creating a practice I could do on my own.
Now, having launched my seventy-fifth year of my earthly existence, I revel in my private time. I felt uncomfortable with my inability to offer advice to a young person innocently seeking it. As a writer, I feel this is my challenge in communicating. It’s easy to resonate with the old farts, but I felt so devoid of the vocabulary I sincerely wanted to have at that moment with her. I remember being in my early twenties and how big the future seemed. There was so much to know and experience and it all had a morning freshness about it, the endless possibilities.
This is what kept me company on my silent ride this morning. Weeks ago, I was gifted a book by Laura, How To Sit by Thich Nhat Hanh. It is fabulous and all he talks about is sitting. I am going to gift it to this young lady when I see her next. I am ill equipped to tell her what local Buddhist temple she needs to find, but I can give her a simple, beautifully written book about sitting, just sitting. I remember when I first started reading about Zen and the Big Man and the only thing that truly mattered was to just sit. There were pretty complicated precepts, attempting to explain the unexplainable, but in the end, all you absolutely need to do was sit. Every morning, I just sit.
I am not the guy to direct anyone to their appropriate spiritual pursuits, because I am still gently wrestling with my own. I think it is extremely important to become intimate with your body and yoga is the pathway and too much of today’s teaching is about the externals. Yoga is developing a silent dialogue with your body and anyway you get there is the right way.
Mind, Body and Spirit is the tripod all of us stand upon. I think when they are cultivated, it is Heart that is birthed. I really don’t give a shit if you are twenty-two or seventy-five, Heart is what matters. It is what makes each of us beautiful. This is what I was thinking about on Flaming Lips with no music and now at home, serenaded by Krishna Das and his wonderful chanting.
My love to all of you and thank you for reading.