The Invisible Paths

To know the road ahead, ask those coming back -- Chinese Proverb

An ash tree in my front yard--large and sprawling shade across the ground below it--has died. Not of old age. Not from a chainsaw. But a parasite called the emerald ash borer. It has actually taken out all of the ash trees on our property. Sparing none of them regardless of age or location. They die slowly over a few years time, sparsely leafing out less and less till they no longer have the circulatory system to transfer its energy to the leaves. They shed their small branches and bark and stand skeletally against the walnuts and maples that surround them.

This bothers me because the ash is one of my favorite trees. I think of wooden baseball bats and I see them as the source. That sound. The summer air and a game that is truly pure when played with joy. But the making of bats requires the death of trees for that process to take place. Perhaps I just feel the connection to the living source that a live tree represents.

I was asked to try to explain Zen by someone when my wife recently traveled out of state to participate in an extended silent retreat. This activity forced a bit of silence on myself as well for my most rewarding conversations exist with her listening to me or I listening to her. I thought of a conversation that took place in the movie "The Natural" between Iris and Roy and I feel the mystery of it. It is somewhat representative of a Zen-like moment or thought. At least as close as Hollywood can get.

Iris Gaines: You know, I believe we have two lives.
Roy Hobbs: How... what do you mean?
Iris Gaines: The life we learn with and the life we live with after that.

Zen is all about trying, and I emphasize trying, to reach wisdom and attain a bit of enlightenment. To try to harness the travelers that are constantly as thoughts returning through your mind. They are moments that keep coming back to you. They bring old luggage and stinky things with them and they are hard to not grab onto them and hold tight to the often bitterness of their existence.

Learning to let go is the truth of it. It is forgiveness. Understanding. Kissing your loved ones and letting them go. Smiling back at a smile or at a frown. Knowing that there is grass under the snow. Fish swimming in the water.

Birds travel through the air yet they leave no trace in the sky. Invisible paths, but they are there. I saw them leave them with my own eyes. Like many of the paths to the answers I seek, they are invisible to all but the heart.

Hats

"Take everything you like seriously, except yourselves." -- Rudyard Kipling

I take myself to seriously. That is one of the first things that I was aware of...my sensitivity to being teased. Though I have a great sense of humor and love to tell and hear jokes, funny stories and other peoples laughter, I have always been a bit uncomfortable when I was the one being played the fool.

That has gradually over time slowly faded away, similar to my hairline. But isn't that one of the great uses for hats--they hide what we may be losing--in this case my diminishing hair?

So how many different hats do I have? I have a hat that covers up the past that keeps winking at me. I can't see it wink at me till the hat slips or gets knocked off by little annoyances. I have another that is pulled down almost completely covering my eyes so it is difficult to see what is in front of me...or in other words the future. Maybe that's a good thing. It keeps me wondering what lays in wait for me. A tiger shining brightly or possibly a shadowy, camouflaged mystery. And I have a hat that I wear all the time, that is with me in the present. It is the one I like the best. It fits me the best. It covers what needs to be covered. It lets in my dreams. It even looks good on me, like wearing a grin.

I see it as a clown hat. Seriously. I am learning to laugh at myself.

No clown shoes though, they give me the creeps.