A Buddhist Still Life... balance

"I'm not sure of what it all means yet... I'm not sure of much of anything these days. Maybe that's why I talk so much." -- Narrator in Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance (early in his Chautauqua)

Meditation: Greening Bodhi with dried cactus blossoms

Classical vs(?) Romantic: I am about 20 percent into Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance. It is one of several reads I am currently indulging in, choosing to crack the cover of my Kindle only while eating my cereal in the morning. [I am also savoring the newest volumes of two graphic novels that came in the mail recently and have just started a biography of John Peel.] In Zen, I have arrived at a philosophical section where the Narrator has begun expressing his ideas contrasting "classical" and "romantic" types of personalities. The "romantic" is exemplified by  the narrator's friend John, whom he describes as a conflicted (and perhaps lost) motorcycle rider who relies heavily on technology—while seemingly wanting to reject any need to understand the machines he hopes to operate properly. The narrator presents himself as more "classical," relying on his rational/logical problem-solving skills to keep his old bike in good repair. I am, in part, drawn to the narrator who loves to tinker and rely on his wits. He seems quiet and introspective, while at the same time claims he talks too much. I identify with that. I often describe myself as a "Pooh" trapped in a "Tigger." I have bought into the narrator's critique of John, yet worry that the narrator is missing how important it is to find a balance between both of the two personalities, a little classical to temper the romantic, a little romance to temper the classic. Balance is the key to a clean mind; logical and emotional; planning/preparing and remaining in the moment; analysis and experience...

Finding my balance: So this weekend I have been seeking my own sort of balance to address not knowing "what it all means yet." I do know that remaining in the moment is just so much nicer than trying to remain in a past moment or anticipate next moments. Balance came this weekend by getting my hands dirty...

First lilac buds over freshly tilled garden.

Getting my hands dirty, Part 1: Placing ones hands deep into rich soil after removing the top layer of rotting fall leaves feels almost as good as the warm shower one takes to get the sweat and dirt of a hard day's work off. What is it about prepping the ground for plants that is so satisfying? Prep work usually makes me cringe. (I love to just jump in and get things done.) For instance, painting prep is what keeps me from painting whenever I can avoid it. I'd rather just hit a canvas and go, adjusting as I will, hoping for something that looks like I feel inside. But prepping a room for paining, doing trim, after masking the electrical covers, etc. pushes my ability to remain patient. I can sit on a bench and watch the sun glisten on the lake for an afternoon, but I have no patience for preping a room to paint. And yet... getting the ground ready to receive plants feels much different. The crazy-garden-ladies [mentors of my first attempts to grow my own food] from Cambridge back in 1997 told me, "take care of the soil and the plants will take care of themselves." It has been one of the most important pieces of wisdom I have ever received. Prepping the soil doesn't even feel like prep work per say. It feels like the only real work of planting. Once I do my part, the plants will do theirs. I'll stick around and offer help when needed; the soil is my responsibility; the growing is theirs...

So phase one of soil prep is done. The lilacs are just starting to bloom by the way. The scent will be drifting across the lawn soon. The soil in their partial shade has been tilled and the rotting leaves await replacement as a top cover once my daughter and I pick our spring planting at the end of the month. I dug in the new dirt a little after the tilling was finished; my hands got dirty; my mind cleared...

'74 Honda CB 360: Opening the engine on frame. 

Getting my hands dirty, Part 2: The Honda has been sitting for months. When I last posted about Joe (my '74 Honda CB360 for those who have not been following my posts regularly) I described restoring the tank and surrounding parts. I have not finished writing my adventures-of-the-dual-carbs yet, but I have to spoil the next few posts on the bike blog by saying that I have gotten the bike to run, and have done a lap around the block. Oh my goodness! Never has 20 miles an hour felt so glorious as making Joe go. But the compression dropped off as things loosened up in that engine that hasn't run for over a decade. So my mentor and I have decided to take a look at the pistons and rings. I am not willing to describe the start of this adventure yet either, but I bring it up because "balance" this weekend came in part through successfully removing my tank without spilling a drop of gas, opening up the breather cover, and understandingly pulling apart the spark advancer and contact breaker assembly. This is not a big deal at all for anyone who knows how to turn wrench on a motorcycle. It's almost as rudimentary as changing a light switch for an electrician, or unclogging a sink drain for a plumber. But for me it was a first, and I knew what I was doing as I did it; And my hands got dirty; And my mind cleared...