It had been a hell of a week; bitter
cold, snow and ice, and a highway job. Add to that I had
wrangle an empty trailer to be able to pick up the load that would
get me back home. Along the way I had to cut across mountainous Pennsylvania
backroads to get there, when all I wanted to do was pull off the road somewhere and
have a stiff drink … beside a roaring fire.
After
the pick up, I battled my way across Pennsylvania
and Ohio and got to Detroit on time to deliver. Detroit was my first
city after college and I have a soft spot in my heart for her. My
load was recycled metal. Recycling industry facilities are not located
in
swanky business parks. Scrap dealers and reprocessors are where the
rent is cheap and the neighbors scarce. Driving up Van Dyke Avenue –
a street that I had once lived on in another Detroit neighborhood –
was excruciating. The burned out and abandoned buildings
crowd out almost any other potential. I wept for my city and got
unloaded in a yard surrounded by 12 foot chain link fence topped with
razor wire.
The next challenge was to drive from
Detroit to Zeeland in a stiff crosswind with an empty trailer. I made
it across owing to my unique combination of stubborn and stupid. I dropped my trailer as the snow plow guy in the
lot tried to find new places to put more snow. After bobtailing to
the terminal, sorting and turning in my paperwork, unpacking the big
truck and stuffing it into my little truck, I was ready to go home,
but I needed to stop at the grocery store on the way.
I
approached the intersection of organically shaped plaza streets
gingerly as the cab of my Ranger was
precariously stuffed. A father and son in a big SUV approached from
the opposite direction. Without so much as slowing down, the dad
cranked his wheel and turned left right in front of me! I
outstretched my arms in the International New Jersey Sign for
“WTF!!??!!” The dad just looked at me like he didn't understand. This
only stoked my anger. As they made a big curve right across my path, the
son looked at me dumbfounded.
Through their salt crusted windows I imagined that I could see the
spittle
about to drool from the kid's ridiculous looking lazy mouth. I had the
urge to just ram them. Alone in my truck, I disparaged their family,
their politics, their religion, their sisters and mothers. They
didn't seem to have any idea how they were making my stupid week
worse! In my final triumph, I flipped them the bird just before they
disappeared around the corner.
I
gave my Ranger some gas. The backend
dipped slightly to the right; more a saunter than a spin out.
Patiently, and feeling oh-so-superior, I waited for the tires to gain
some traction. The plow polished snow gradually gave way
and as I moved through the intersection, it hit me – brighter than the
blinding afternoon sun blasting off the white on white ice and snow – in
order to facilitate traffic exiting the
plaza, there.is.no.stop.sign.in.the.opposite.direction. Father and
son were flabbergasted simply because they were right and I was
wrong. I had lost my way – in
many more ways than one. How could I have felt so self
righteously violated over 4 more seconds at a stop sign? Who have I
become?
I've struggled recently to make time, or
take the time to continue my meditation practice out here on the road.
After sitting all day, driving a semi and concentrating strongly on
my driving, it is hard to convince myself to sit, on purpose, to
concentrate some more. Other times, I'm running so hard if feels like
I don't have the time. The result is I haven't been sitting.
Rolling slowly through the plaza, I
realized – re-learned – that meditation is not just sitting and
concentrating. It's not doing time. Meditation is about reflecting on
and absorbing the wisdom I have been offered. It is not an escape
from life, meditation is practicing how to live. To just do the time is to
miss the point. To feel self righteous while driving through a plaza is to
miss the point. Rather than worry about how much time I meditate,
I just need to sneak a few minutes here and there to reflect on who I
want to be. Making a complete ass of myself helped me find my way
again.
