BEING ALIVE

     

EXCERPT Chapter 2. THE QUESTION. 

"...Time to re-invent my existence.  Forms assemble and settle into the space around me in the order I create them.  My bedroom arranges itself so I won't be confused by the illusion.  It always takes a moment or two to realize that I am alive!  Alive!  A life!  Life!  How can I express the feeling of being alive?  The knowing trickles into my senses as I breathe breaths, scratch an itch, stretch a stretch, and smell a smell.  Yes!  I’m alive!  On this fine morning, I am exhilarated by the thought." 

SEPTEMBER 6, 2013.  Exhilarated?  What was I thinking?  I can count being exhilarated about being alive on one hand.  Buddha woke up from his many years meditation to realize the joy of being alive.  He was joy-filled for everything he could see and not see… the trees and flowers and animals and rain.  He never forgot that first moment, and taught his followers to recognize -- accept the joy of being alive.  Many do.  Many don’t.  I want to get there.

It’s a Universal law of Physics: All energy and matter that exists today were formed at the moment of the so-called Big Bang.  (Maybe before the Big Bang.)  What actually happens when energy is released from its temporary material (matterial) residence is debated by scientists.  According to quantum physics, all that exists has always existed by taking new forms over and over like that yellow blouse resting on my couch over there.  Found it in a thrift store and can't wait to wear it on the right occasion.  Recycled.  That blouse has been recycled into countess things since the big bang. The materials forming that blouse have been recycled for billions of years like everything else that came from a singular beginning.  First stardust.  Now a thing to wear.  Matter beget by Energy.  All that is formed -- the atoms forming the forms, the billions of yet-to-be-seen neutrinos passing through the forms will exist as primordial energy or matter forever. Hard for me to imagine that the atoms whirling in that blouse are part of this idea. Another sort of energy?  Lifeless.  Life less.  Still, it is a part of endless existence.

I’m not sure I want this life form (me) to become energy again.  To form matter again.  Somehow  continue to exist  as other forms for countless billions of years again and again.  Maybe I’m afraid of the next step.  Become human again?  The way the human race is imploding I am reluctant to start another life on Earth in human form.  Maybe I’d like to be a cat or a bee or a fish.   Maybe a yellow blouse.

I lie awake through long nights staring at the ceiling recalling memories that won’t leave me alone.  Dark thoughts about the life-changing mistakes I’ve made throughout my life.  Remembering the people I've hurt or hurt me.  Ashamed of relationships gone sour because of my pride, immaturity, lack of self esteem or worse: inability to know better.  I am ashamed to go into the details.  Ashamed that I am feeling sorry for myself. 

Lately I experience being alive as an observer.  I am outside of my body watching my body in action. Without feeling.  Without participating.  I look out the window at the foothills cooled by the night.  The rocky hills will warm up soon enough as the temperature rises.  Been in the 90’s for weeks. The sky holds clouds that will build up this afternoon for a bit of drizzle. That's all we get in Colorado these days.  Drizzle.  The soft rain is welcomed by the leaves on the trees that have been drooping in the sun.  When rain drops on them, they rise and shimmy.  Become alive.  

The window shade string is caught in a breeze forming an arc.   Shadow the Cat curled up in his basket ignores this opportunity to play.  His ears are bent back listening to a lone Finch on the rooftop loudly chirping “I’m alive!  I’m alive!”  Cat taught him the tune.

Shadow is aware of being alive even when he is sleeping.  Every sense appears to be dormant in his subconscious while he naps.  Not so.  One sound is all it takes to wake him up and be ready to spring.  Cats make patience an art.  Right now, he’s ready to jump out of his basket when I stand up.  He's hungry for his breakfast.  So am I.

SEPTEMBER 10, 2013.  My beautiful red full-tailed Betta, Mister Fishy died this morning.  I still have a lump in my throat.  Betta's are born to be enemies with all other Bettas and fight with themselves to their death.  Even kill their mate.  His destiny was to live alone in his bowl.  He couldn’t live with another of his kind or any other fish.  I put a beautiful crystal, a glass cat, a dancing figure and a lovely glass shell in his bowl to keep him company.  

Mister's personality was absolute.  There is no doubt that he observed the action going on outside his bowl.  From his gallon water world placed on the counter dividing the kitchen from the living room, he would watch me while I cooked.  He’d follow me as far as he could in his little domain when I left the kitchen.  He learned to "come" for his food.  If I whistled “Dixie”, he’d race to the surface to gobble those tiny pellets as if they were ice cream.  Smart guy.  

Shadow will miss him.  They were friends.  Actually touched noses while Shadow sipped from his bowl.  It was his watering hole.  As he has for three years, Shadow is hopping up to the counter to look for his little friend.  Without Mister Fishy, the water doesn’t taste as good to him.  I hope Mister Fishy’s return to life will be in the form of another kind of fish who can share his waters with him.  Or be a being in a larger world.  A world where he won't have to fight for his life.  No matter.  He’s free to begin again.  

SEPTEMBER 20, 2013. 

THE DEADLY BOULDER FLOODING has stopped.  A few days ago, Tessa the Dog and Shadow the Cat and I watched the creek outside Tessa’s caretakers' front window.  It became a living thing as it crept up to the one and only concrete stair leading up to the front door.  When the power went out, we stumbled up to the second floor in pitch-blackness and went to bed -- together -- the three of us.  I didn’t think to be afraid.  My animal companions weren’t agitated, so why should I be?  At dawn, we were blessed to see that that one stair held back the tide.  That miracle made me realize -- for a moment anyway -- the joy Buddha spoke of.  The joy of being alive cannot be expressed.  Only felt deep in one’s inner core. 

Wildlife report.  According to the Boulder Daily Camera, the birds were the hardest hit by the drenching downpours.  Tons of their dead bodies have been collected.  When birds’ feathers get saturated, they are vulnerable to the cold.  The fragile ones succumbed to the blast of the rain.  As soon as the remaining people and their animals are safely evacuated from their flooded home sites, the body count for the other animals living in the wild will be assessed. 

Yes, we’re safe, but my emotions have manifested into guilt because I was spared and so many have lost everything.  There must be a word for feeling joy and guilt at the same time.  I pray for those people in Boulder and surrounding counties who were dealt that knock-out punch by Nature.  For thousands in northern Boulder, Lyons, Estes Park and many towns in between, there would be no release from the chaos. Thousands of lives were uprooted by the swollen creeks and rivers and mudslides and washed out roads.  The St. Vrain River has shifted across the land and formed new routes for its flow. Hundreds of heroes from many states came to rescue the thousands. Every rescue story that came out of the devastated areas were tales about the joy of being alive.  It’s exhilarating to know this.  Finding joy in being alive is the miracle. 

Thousands of candles can be lighted from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened.

POST SCRIPT SEPTEMBER 30, 2013.

After writing this entry, am trying to pay attention to the sensual.  This morning, I savored every bite of a cheesy omelet and yogurt with fruit.  The coffee was perfectly brewed if I do say so myself.  The taste and smell of the food is different this day because I am taking the moment to focus on what I am tasting.  Shadow the Cat just rubbed his whiskers on my leg.  Tickled.  Felt good.

This morning, am watching in awe at the power of the wind bending the trees.  It reminds me that Winter is inevitable.  A CU student roars by at top speed on his motorbike on the street below.  He does this once a day.  The police haven’t stopped him…  yet.  Sorry for him.  Not so much for his speeding, but for the sake of an animal or person he could hit in his frenzy.  Or hurt himself.  Maybe not.  He’s been lucky so far.

A friend called to tell me she is bored with “same old same old.” Since the loss of her beloved, she is locked – blocked.  I pray she’ll begin to embrace the experience of being alive.  Once she does, I am sure that nothing will be “same old same old…”  That every step she takes will become precious moments of being alive.

Another friend, Cathy S., has walked 250 miles of her 500 mile pilgrimage from France onto the Camino path in Spain.  She is following the footsteps of early people seeking their souls 1000 years ago, and the thousands who have joined that first quest every year since.  Her daily journal entries at cathywaywalker.com inspire me.  She is discovering through her arduous, spectacular walk that taking each step by step through the colorful villages and meeting the local people, there is great delight -- a splendor -- in being alive.

OCTOBER 5, 2013.

We shall study every philosophy, search through all the scriptures, consult every teacher and practice all spiritual exercises until out minds are swollen with the whole wisdom of the world.  But in the end, we shall return to the surprising fact that we walk, eat, sleep, feel and breathe... that whether we are deep in thought or idly passing the time of day, we are alive!   Alan Watts.