Staying Still

Better than one hundred years lived
With an unsettled mind,
Devoid of insight,
Is one day lived
With insight and absorbed in meditation.
(from The Dhammapada).

A Poem for Tuesday

Wandering Around An Albuquerque Airport Terminal
by Naomi Shihab Nye

After learning my flight was detained 4 hours, I heard the announcement: If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic, please come to the gate immediately.

Well — one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there. An older woman in full traditional Palestinian dress, just like my grandma wore, was crumpled to the floor, wailing loudly. Help, said the flight service person. Talk to her. What is her problem? We told her the flight was going to be four hours late and she did this.

I put my arm around her and spoke to her haltingly. Shu dow-a, shu-biduck
habibti, stani stani schway, min fadlick, sho bit se-wee? The minute she heard any words she knew — however poorly used – she stopped crying. She thought our flight had been cancelled entirely. She needed to be in El Paso for some major medical treatment the following day. I said, No, no, we're fine, you'll get there, just late, who is picking you up? Let's call him and tell him.

We called her son and I spoke with him in English. I told him I would stay with his mother till we got on the plane and would ride next to her. She talked to him. Then we called her other sons just for the fun of it. Then we called my dad and he and she spoke for a while in Arabic and found out, of course, they had ten shared friends. Then I thought, just for the heck of it, why not call some Palestinian poets I know and let them chat with her. This all took up about 2 hours. She was laughing a lot by then. Telling about her life. Answering questions.

She had pulled a sack of homemade mamool cookies — little powdered sugar crumbly mounds stuffed with dates and nuts — out of her bag — and was offering them to all the women at the gate. To my amazement, not a single woman declined one. It was like a sacrament. The traveler from Argentina, the traveler from California, the lovely woman from Laredo — we were all covered with the same powdered sugar. And smiling. There are no better cookies.

And then the airline broke out the free beverages from huge coolers —
non-alcoholic — and the two little girls for our flight, one African-American,
one Mexican-American — ran around serving us all apple juice and lemonade and they were covered with powdered sugar, too.

And I noticed my new best friend — by now we were holding hands — had a potted plant poking out of her bag, some medicinal thing, with green furry leaves. Such an old country traveling tradition. Always carry a plant. Always stay rooted to somewhere.

And I looked around that gate of late and weary ones and thought, This is the world I want to live in. The shared world. Not a single person in this gate — once the crying of confusion stopped — has seemed apprehensive about any other person. They took the cookies. I wanted to hug all those other women, too. This can still happen, anywhere.

Not everything is lost.

Monkey Mind

The toxins multiply
For the insolent and negligent
Who reject what they should do
And do instead what they should not.
But the toxins come to an end
For those who are mindful and alert,
Who are constantly well-engaged
With mindfulness of the body,
Who don't resort to what they should not do
But persist in doing what they should.
(The Dhammapada, Gil Fronsdal's translation)

With the beginning of the new year, accompanied by the cold weather, resulting in more time inside, I find myself struggling with mindfulness. The passage above settles into my centeredness, reminding me that choice is part of the path. I abide by the perception that nothing is dichotomous...that I am always on the path; one cannot be "off the path." The path includes rocky terrain, and smooth warm sand, cool grass...just as in a race, one may be at times in the front and other times at the aid station. But one is never not in the race. And finishing first is not my goal--my goal is to be fully engaged and aware of the experience.

I am allowing my distractions some room on the path, but they will not deter my enlightenment.