When I was learning to surf, I asked my instructor what a wave was. He said that a wave is what pushes you along. But sometimes a wave passes and you stay in the same place, is that a wave? Yes, that’s a wave too, a wave is when the water breaks. Before the water breaks, as it churns below, is that a wave? Yes, a wave is when the water builds.
I am walking on a trail. I started on November 19, 1999, and I don’t know when it will finish. I am told that at the end of the trail there is a cliff, where everything I know will end. A part of me believes that while everyone else will reach the cliff, for some reason, I will be able to keep walking. But, I am not exempt. This piece will end.
I read in a book that meditation is like planting a garden in your mind. So I planted the seeds, every morning, for a few minutes a day. Soon I saw sprouts, little green leaves poking out. At first I was happy. Finally, I could have my own garden. But then the sprouts grew a little each day, and sometimes they didn’t grow at all. So first I got on my knees and shouted at them to grow, but they didn’t grow faster.
I have a plant in my room that I bought when I first moved into my apartment. It’s a large Pothos from Ikea. Its leaves are wide and it grows in all different directions. I never owned plants before because I moved around too much, country to country, dorm to apartment. I was never in one place long enough to sustain one. Every few days, when the soil is dry, I water my plants.
Most of my life I’ve been a visitor in an imaginary land, rather than a resident of the world I live in. All day, I leave the present, and travel in my mind to the past or future. The past is an enormous rose bush. Throughout the day, in the corner of my mind, I may see a beautiful rose. I’m always tempted to turn my attention to this rose, and try to grab it.