Closer Everyday

     The large, west facing windows on the top floor of my gym display a serene view of three large pine trees. They tower over the highway like monk triplets and sway with the changing of the seasons. I sit with my yoga mat towards them and take in the beauty in front of me. For a moment, I find myself envying the trees. No agenda. No expectations. No reservations. They grow closer to heaven everyday and have no idea. Even if they were aware, they wouldn't feel any particular way. That's just their dharma. 

    I biked home in the dark, wet night. The sun sets early now and the rain is a lengthy visitor. In my gym clothing and my skateboarding helmet, I ride through thick and sporadic rain drops, squinting with blurred vision. The roads are quiet on Sunday nights so I feel the bandwidth to channel the three trees until I reach home. Sopping wet, with quietness in my heart, I say to the air, "I am so glad I get to be me."

    Aliveness is flying through the downpour, your sweater heavy with sweat, water, coffee grounds from the work day. Aliveness is knowing that the trees and you are far from separate forces. Aliveness is oneness. I don't like driving anymore. I don't miss it for a moment. I like showing up places smothered in rain. I went through something before this. It's implied that way. 

    I've been back home for a week and I feel more in tune than ever. Every instant feels like a divine flow. My friend told me yesterday, "If I died today, I would be happy with the way I was. I was good to people. I was content with how I spent my time." What a feeling to have at twenty-five. To have that thought when meeting death is something we dream of the whole time we're awake. And right now, I'm thanking each tree that I'm awake. Something in the spinning of my bike wheels confesses to me that the trees aren't the only ones growing closer to heaven everyday. 

Steak

    Sentimentality is the way I drive my spiritual car. That's the road I'm always dancing down. The path I can't shake with a heart so fat. I like being that way. Everything counts and, yea, that's probably better than everything being nothing. Although that's a simple way to go on and be. You probably wouldn't cry much. Nothing would rattle you like the roadside attractions rattle me and my welling eyes. So I'll take this way over simplicity. 

    I'm feeling clear these days. Maybe it's traveling solely by bike again. In a car I screamed and that's sure good for me but on a bike I'm one with the elements. If the rain wants to eat me, it'll feast. If the sun wants to burn me, I'll roast. If I want to scream rolling down a steep street, the autonomy is there. 

    Maybe it's the women around me. Just the other day, I worked out with my girlfriend, we laughed until our faces were beets, and then she took me home, put mousse in my hair, and fed me steak. I killed a spider for her. That I can scream about. That's the feminine activity I always begged Buddha for. 

    It's funny getting what you want and thinking, "why?"

    

Public Transport Miracle

    I like to think people on the bus wearing earphones are listening to the same song as me. I like to pray for innate connection like this. A human tie so deep, we don't even have to know of its existence. I enjoy imagining a world where our hearts are beating in identical rhythm. It could be the same song.