Adventures at Rasa Ranch #114

[Guest guest]

5/13/03 "Giving Up"

 

Today I took Bodhi and the kids to the river. Big deal, right? I

mean, we are no strangers to the river. But this was my first trip

with the baby. Between the blazing sun and the fair skin... the

rocks, the slippery algae and the hot sand... the cold, wet gunk and

pebbles that looked good enough for one of us to eat... the dog's

insatiable yearning to pester a family of rodents smack in the middle

of a grove of shiny poison oak and his inevitable brushing past us,

only to then plunge into the cold water and come out and shake all

over us... the river's current and the enormous enthusiasm of a

five-year-old's first visit since last summer and an eight-month-old

who, with a huge, gummy smile, would gladly throw himself with

abandon into the water and up onto the rocks after his sister whom he

adores... it was just too much. I had to keep coming back to the

silence, and then again, and yet again, until finally it became

dreadfully obvious to me how tense I was becoming. I felt as if I

didn't have enough eyes or arms to keep them safe and I knew it and

somehow I had to give up. I had no choice. I had to give up trying

to protect the little ones. My thought was something like,

"Something else is going to have to do this for me because I simply

cannot do it myself."

 

The next thing I knew, it was a couple of hours later and we were

casually strolling back after a great outing during which Bodhi and

the children renewed their love affairs with the water and the earth

and all things natural. I had been so busy that, for me, it was all

a blur, but even so, I had had enough sanity at that point to be able

to converse easily and lovingly and with a mild acquaintance that we

had run into and when that delightful, impromptu visit was over, we

sang all the way home.

 

Jim brought back Chinese take-out after his a long workday in town.

We caught up on the day's events and after Ananda's lively version of

our time at the river, I shared with him my experience. Jim said it

reminded him of his bicycle ride in Benares, India, where he found

himself clenching the handlebars with white knuckles as he attempted

to navigate his way through the chaos of the throngs of people, other

bicycles and cars weaving to and fro, the exhaust and the noise in

that population-dense city. He had been completely overwhelmed and

not able to process all that was happening around him until the

moment when he was forced to simply throw in the towel. At that

point, he said it was if he floated through it all from inside a

silent and peaceful bubble and was able to reach his destination in a

totally effortless manner.

 

The Chinese restaurant had only given us two fortune cookies, so

Ananda got one and Jim and I shared the other. Our fortune read:

"Behind an able man, there are always other able men." Well, that

may or may not be so, but it is definitely Jim's and my experience

(and surely many of yours), that when we find ourselves truly unable,

that's when all the miracles get to happen.

 

[picture attached]

 

 

 

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