I was once a student of religion at Oregon State. For two years I studied koine Greek, Latin, and the history of Christianity. I thought I’d make a good minister. Ultimately, it didn’t fit. Zen did.
I am not a good Zen Buddhist; I hardly practice at all (read that as nearly never). I do, however, try to be mindful of the moment and let things flow and connect as they will. I once attended an all-day Zazen “seshin” with some monks who came up from California, (where else?) and had an asthma attack mid-day. Lydia brought me some medicine from across Portland (she has always been so supportive of my searches and whimsies) and I tried to continue sitting. My coughing was disturbing the others I knew. At a break, I had two brief conversations: one with one of the monks who suggested I might try another day instead of staying, and one from a fellow student who told me about an acquaintance who, during a break from a meditation period, had pulled out his banjo and begun playing and singing. He was asked to leave as not having the right spirit for the day. Both conversations stuck with me. It seems to me that together they embody the notion of Yin and Yang, the serious opposing (or identifying really) the joyous. I’ve not formally “sat” since that day. Now my sitting consists of pauses and brief reflection, letting thoughts go and trying to just be by not trying. It is hard to explain as is the way of Zen, but I’m sure you get the idea.
We’ve spent the last week getting Atticus ready for travel. Our first adventure is a week at Waldport, a spot along the Oregon coast we’ve not stayed before. Lydia has a lunch meeting, so we’ll leave in the early afternoon. We start out on Hwy. 20 and should hit 101 and be heading south before we’re driving directly into the setting sun. The first trip of the year is like a shake-down cruise where we remember little things to do or bring that we’ve not thought of on the original packing. Annie has sensed our preparations and seems to know that the “pack” is going somewhere soon. She whined and ran in circles anytime I moved or went to the door. When I did go out, she stood at the door and whined until I came back. It seemed easier to let Lyd do the packing. For the benefit of all I relinquished my role as packer, remaining in my chair to calm Annie.
Since retiring I’ve begun several hobbies and I’m never sure what to bring along to keep me from driving Lyd crazy. We both read copiously and the bus is well stocked with material, both paper and electronic. I have become an avid modeler, both kits and Lego creations and can bring along small Lego projects. The kits I build require many tools, glues, and patterns. They are not really appropriate for the close quarters of an RV. I’m avidly learning the banjo, an instrument I piddled at several years ago, but had little time and honestly, was too embarrassed with my efforts, to really take it on and practice where I could be heard. I’ll bring it because Lydia has assured me that she is immune to my plinking (surprising since she knows I am nearly tone deaf and lack any sense of rhythm), and so, I persevere joyfully, like the Zen student of my past. (When I first retired, I went through a long period of spending nearly all of my time reading. It was what I needed. Gradually, and especially after Lydia retired, I felt the need to do other things when we weren’t traveling. Of course, there was the usual yard work and house cleaning, the cooking and baking to be done (Before enlightenment, chopping wood and carrying water; after enlightenment chopping wood and carrying water). I needed more. I became an amateur rock hound, finding and polishing stones, then making them into jewelry. I still do, but not on a steady basis.
On a whim, I ordered a Lego version of the Volkswagen camper bus. It was like my first Atticus! Slowly, I built the model, struggling with poor translations of directions and unexplained steps found only in the accompanying pictures. I loved the process so much I ordered the light kit to make the headlights work (a process that required me to undo much of the original construction and the unhappy discovery that Legos, as a group tend towards entropy, a state of disorder and randomness). I wanted to do more, but found that the models I was interested in, buildings and towns, were inordinately expensive. Then, bless her sweet heart, Lydia got me a model of a bookstore to build. It required patience, tiny cuts, and building furniture with tweezers. It was better than Legos and a lot less expensive. Now, I bounce between modeling and, while waiting for glue to dry, cook, bake, or practice the banjo.
Well, truly, I’ve wandered away from my topic. I can’t bring the model; I’ll pack the banjo, go for long walks, and sit every now and then and just be.

The Road