The Art of Zen Living

I saw an amazing thing tonight.  Perhaps that’s more a commentary on our “culture” than anything.

I try to walk every day - some weeks I do better than others.  I’ve been off my stride lately, so I made an extra effort to make sure I got off of my butt tonight and got out there.  My route takes me 3 tenths of a mile out to a semi-main road, which offers a nice, straight patch of sidewalk and a variety of large trees and interesting vegetation.  I’ve learned to appreciate the lack of litter along this stretch of road.  I’d never really stopped to think much about it, other than to observe there wasn’t much of it.  I sort of vaguely attributed it to the neighborhood.  I was only partially right.

I walk at a pretty brisk pace - somewhere around 4 and a half miles per hour - and I wear 5 pound ankle weights and carry 5 pound hand weights.  I end up working a good amount of momentum and there’s a “swish-swish-swish” of the sand in the ankle weights that makes it hard to sneak up on anyone.  While I usually give a wave and a smile, I’m always wearing my ear buds and usually listening to Ven. Kusala Bhikshu, It takes something truly out of the ordinary to pull my focus.

Tonight, that’s exactly what happened.  As I made the turn onto the semi-main road, I noticed a couple up ahead of me.  They were walking along at about half the speed I was, side by side, talking and meandering.  As I got closer, I started to try and figure out the best way to get around them.  I wanted to be sure and pass close enough to wish them a nice evening and be pleasant, but I didn’t want to disrupt their walk, and I wanted as little disruption to my pace as possible.  I decided to cross off the sidewalk and into the street for as long as it took to get around them.  Just as I was getting ready to cut over, the man turned slightly and walked off the sidewalk and into the grass.  This was different than the meandering they’d been doing - he moved with a purpose.  She followed him, shining a small flashlight around on the ground to find what he’d glimpsed.  Now I could see that in one hand, he had a kitchen sized garbage bag, and in the other some sort of “grabber” device for picking things up, or perhaps getting a can off of a high shelf.  I was sort of stunned.  I kept walking but I was no longer aware of what Kusala was saying, and I was only sort of aware that I was passing out of range of these nice people.

“Good evening!” I called over my shoulder.  I didn’t get it together enough to think that what I should have said was “Hey, thank you.  I appreciate your thoughtfullness in taking the time to clean up the area around the road on your evening walk.”  Next time I see them, that’s exactly what I’ll say.

I spent the rest of my walk considering all the things I’d like to be better at.  Staying in the moment, doing things (like picking up the trash) that contribute to the community, making a difference, reducing the conflict in my life, or practicing compassion.  I’m going to meditate on it for the next few days, then pick one thing to start with, and make a change.

In the meantime, I’m going to make sure that I always appreciate and say thank you to people I see contributing.