Three Moments

by Laurel Ross


Three flickers of light

1- Confusion
2- (Out of) My Mind
3- True self

In Zen practice we actively explore our own minds and along the way make surprising discoveries—some delightful, some upsetting, some forgettable, some life-changing. What can we do with these discoveries though? Can they lead to making changes? Or might they lead to acceptance of what is?

Lately it seems the universe is presenting itself in ways that beg for my attention. Something is up. Small experiences offer a potential conduit to wisdom. I offer three such small experiences here.

1- Confusion
Recently I agreed to help someone close to me deal with the household of her terminally ill father who is now living with his sister. She had warned me that the situation was extreme, but I wasn’t prepared for floor to ceiling debris, unorganized STUFF. Many objects in the confused mass were of some “value”—kitchen utensils, random hardware, art supplies, etc. But all of it was heaped in enormous sagging mountains on the floor and furniture, together with what can only be called garbage—junk mail, newspapers, wrappings from pizza deliveries, dead batteries, etc. making it all appear to be trash. I am struggling to convey the scale and bizarreness of it all.

The man who had been living in this hellish place had created little tunnel-like pathways in order to walk from the bathroom to the bedroom. The kitchen and all other rooms were impenetrable and hadn’t been used for a long time.

Our assignment was to retrieve objects and papers of value in the chaos—family photographs, documents, etc.—because the daughter had hired people to remove and dispose of the rubble so the house could be sold. As we sifted through the disorder we started to see what was there. Many, many unopened packages—bags containing purchases that had been discarded without ever being opened or even looked at again. Much of it was books, and the most common category of books was self-help books—all the familiar themes: better sex, more money, and how to gain control of one’s life through meditation.

After retrieving some morsels with meaning that were packed and moved to a storage unit (a surreal story of its own), we used snow shovels to fill huge bags that were dragged to the dumpster.

When I retreated to my own home afterwards my own stuff looked different. I have my own messes and objects and books and stuff. When I die someone will have to look through it all and pluck the very few things of value. Not only that, while this stuff is here it is in my way, using space and time to deal with it.

Let me get my snow shovel now while I can.


2-(Out of) My Mind

In May I contracted a very nasty case of poison ivy—far worse than my usual spring dose. Several days after the rash erupted I woke up with eyes swollen shut and big, itchy, blotches everywhere. My doctor explained that my body’s antigens were in high gear and I could expect to have three weeks of increasing symptoms UNLESS I wanted to try steroids. When she offered this treatment I felt desperate and barely asked about side effects as I listened to the three week course of medication.

My time on steroids provided a new window into my mind—or someone’s mind. “Who is this crazy and decidedly unpleasant person?” was the operative question during the short weird time. I was tense, jumpy, short-tempered. Not the warm, generous and kind person I see as me. For a Zen student this presents a hell of a question: If a tiny dose of a chemical can change “me” so significantly, how real is that person I am fond of thinking I am?


3- True self

Working in my garden early this morning I noticed that my cat Dottie was focused on something across the yard. Before my eyes she was suddenly transformed from a quiet, silky, even lethargic and elderly pet into a virtual bullet that flew across the 10 yards of the garden and returned with a shrieking baby rabbit in her mouth. Her brother, Jack, joined her as she dropped, then recaught this mouthful, and to my horror I watched them race into the back door of our apartment with their treasure squealing pathetically.

“Now what?” I followed them tentatively, hoping I would not see anything too gory and was further horrified to hear chasing around and crashing of breakables as I entered the kitchen. I caught a glimpse of Jack in a posture quite different from his usual casual self as he watched a corner in the pantry. As he sat and demonstrated alertness so effectively the thought that crossed my mind was that I was looking at his true self, just as Dottie had shown me her true self in that moment of blasting across the yard.

This story does not have a happy ending for the rabbit. I considered intervening and trying to “save” the poor thing, but decided I was an outsider in this event, so I went back to working in the garden and hoped that the poor bunny wouldn’t suffer too much.

After some time had passed I ventured back into the house and found the body under the dining room table with a big gash in its gut and its liver exposed. Eyes were open, but life was gone. True self of bunnyness? Any ecologist will tell you that bunnies are born to be eaten. Another lesson in an afternoon designed to reveal. I bowed, covered it with towel and planned to bury it.

Now Dottie walked into the room and without hesitation pulled off the towel and sat down next to the body looking relaxed, but clear in her intentions. As she began licking it, I retreated to the garden. When I came back into the house for a glass of water, Jack was tearing meat from one of the haunches having pulled off and discarded the fur.

An hour later both cats were back in the yard—was it over? Using a piece of cardboard and a trowel I picked up the now really gory corpse from under the table and stashed it behind the raspberry bushes thinking and hoping that we were near the end of the excitement.

But not yet. Moments later it reappeared in the center of the yard with both cats sprawled next to it looking for all the world like lions in the Serengeti. “Mew,” said Jack.

I bowed to the three of them and finally surrendered control. It was a wild and natural day.