Driving Toward the Future

Today I drove up to Portland to talk to middle schoolers at The Catlin Gabel School, where I went from 8th-12th grade. Representatives from various religions were there to talk about ethics.

As an adult, I marvel at how beautiful they are. Their skin and eyes are so bright, and their minds are so fresh. And they have no idea what vibrant creatures they are. Some of them are clearly special-- quirky and lovable old souls sharing themselves without reservation.

I could say a lot about the talks I gave and the conversations we had. Mostly I'm humbled by my own inability to express the dharma. And that people respond anyway, because the truth is just so damn good, easily surviving mangling at my hands.

But the notable thing I'm here to write about was that: I drove to Portland, did the program and drove back. Ninety minutes each way. And the drive was wonderful.

The light reflected off the wet freeway, the sun came out, distant smokestacks puffed against a background of black clouds. It is possible to express metta--lovingkindness-- from the driver's seat, and to undertake the drive in a spirit of collaboration and love. Just sitting and driving and feeling the body (so the arms don't start to get tense). A ninety-minute heart-opening meditation.

This spirit first came over me when I made a 5.5 hour trek from Mt Vernon, Washington, to the monastery in Clatskanie, Oregon, just after Christmas. I saw two overturned SUVs on that drive. One was a Cadillac Escalade, the most ostentatious and muscular expression of anxiety salved by conspicuous consumption on the road today. To see that proud, nasty vehicle, freshly flipped and quivering, the people inside in great danger... after that, I am no longer "offended" by this dangerous monstrosity. I am just sad.

It's so unfortunate that people feel the need to climb into giant mounds of metal in order to feel safe. At a time when resources are dwindling and the very nature of Nature is changing, all we can do in our fear is to use more oil, drive bigger cars, make the problem worse?

One could hope that being faced with real shortages and consequences in oil consumption would force us to cut through the illusion of separation and begin to cooperate as if our lives depended on one another. As they always have. Pragmatic cooperation certainly does exist-- but it's also tempting to grab what little is left. When privation looms, who doesn't want to find some security against the rising tide of chaos?

But what security there is, is not in "things." Being able to be happy after three hours of driving seems much more satisfying.