If we are mindful as we approach the hill, we will notice our thoughts that say “Oh no! That is a steep and difficult challenge! It will ruin my pleasant cycling experience! I will become hot and sweaty, and my muscles will ache and I will want to turn around and find another way! Why would John do this to me! I thought he was my friend, but I was wrong! There will be payback later!”
Do not try to resist these thoughts. It is fruitless. Instead, let them pass like the water in the stream, or the freight train rolling through the night, blasting its horn and keeping us awake.
We should smile at the hill, and thank it, because it is bodhisattva allying with John to bring us to the present moment. A moment that reminds us that the earth, is indeed, rich with hills as well as valleys, ups and downs, which we must all encounter at some point.
Or not, which is why the automobile was invented and why Henry Ford became one of the richest men on earth. He knew people would rather avoid the unpleasantness of hills by merely stepping on the gas, and who can blame them?
So seeing the hill on one’s bicycle, one must ask oneself “What am I doing here, and was this my choice? Am I nuts? What is wrong with John and Joan, who have done this willingly, it seems, since forever?”
As the hill gets steeper, bodhisattva or some more basic physiological process reminds us that we have lungs and hearts that definitely have their limits, as we feel we are drowning, with our heartbeat pounding in our ears. This is fun? This is good for me?
Our thoughts stop flowing and become like one powerful chorus, screaming. We are now purely in the moment, for sure!
The hill grows steeper, and longer. The crickets in the bushes and the birds overhead are laughing at us! They do not willfully choose to suffer as we do – what is wrong with us? Our muscles scream with the chorus and laugh with the crickets!
Our thoughts lust for relief: Why is my bicycle so heavy? Why is my lowest gear not low at all?
Curse you, gravity! You and John have ruined my pleasant experience!
We can get off and walk, if we choose, learning a lesson in Humility. Or Shame.
The hilltop approaches. Our heart ceases its torture of us and becomes a beacon, lit from within!
Oh no! It is not really the top at all, but an illusion. John smiles and says “Among bicyclists, this is known as a False Summit. It teaches us that it is foolish to count on hope.” We are ready to kill him.
The true summit reveals itself, as it must. We enjoy the terrifying ride down the other side, after a fashion, wondering about our brakes.
We will fix John’s wagon when the opportunity presents itself, as it eventually must.
(dedicated to those riding partners who choose to follow me on my carefully mapped-out routes in eastern Massachusetts, where glaciers once carved out terrain of refreshing variability)
