visible here and now

            Waking up this morning—later than I had hoped, in more pain than I had hoped—I never imagined that I was about to have such an incredible day.

            As I drove to my weekly physical therapy appointment, I began to feel better.  I knew that by working my body, inhibiting some muscles and activating others, tension would be released and I would feel like a better-oiled machine.  A smile played at my lips as I listened to Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young almost getting a haircut and heading to Woodstock, really, just loving everybody.

            Slowing down as I entered Pittsboro town limits, I noticed something in the road, just to the right of the double yellow line.  Closer, I saw that it was a box turtle, flipped on its back, legs flailing.  In a moment, my internal Rolodex flipped to the answer to the question I didn't ask.  I have to get that turtle out of the road!  I waited for a break in traffic, turned around in the nearest driveway and pulled to the side of the road. 

            The woman in the black SUV behind me called out, “Are you okay?”

            I held up my hand in reply and ran out into the road to collect the turtle.  I waved a “thank you” to everyone who had slowed down.  I quickly looked over the turtle, its legs were fine but its head was pulled into its shell, a thick coat of viscous red blood covered its snout and face, dripping out of its shell.  Its nosed was cracked, I could tell if there was any more damage, I hoped not.  “Damn it!”  I yelled to whatever could hear me.  I couldn’t stop the tears from welling up in my eyes.  I set it down in the grass, shaded by the trees and hoped that either it would heal or nature would take its course.  Back in my car, a few sobs escaped as I watched a police car drive by, patrolling the busy street. 

            I pulled into the road, still on my way to my appointment.  In the rearview mirror I saw a vulture circle above the road where the turtle had been, landing in a tree to watch for other casualties.  No!  I can’t  let nature “take its course.”  Nature did not harm the turtle.  It was the hurried person behind the wheel of the speeding car on the asphalt road that cuts through its habitat that hurt the turtle. 

            I showed up to my appointment, greeted with smiles, and I slumped down by the wall,  “I can’t do this now.  I have to save a turtle.”  I regaled them with my story, asking if it was possible to come back later since I knew I would only be thinking of the turtle if I had my appointment as scheduled.

            Seeing my distraught expression, my physical therapist agreed that it would do no good to keep me there.  She knew I had to save that turtle.  I rushed out the door and hopped in my car, cardboard box in hand.  I found the turtle a couple feet from where I had left it.  “You’re going to be okay,” I tried to comfort it.  But I think that was more for me.

            When I called a local veterinary clinic I was referred to the Triangle Wildlife Rehabilitation Clinic in Durham.  When the man at the other end of the line gave me the go-ahead, I hit the road again.  The turtle did not like air conditioning, so I lowered the windows and allowed the hot air to swirl into the car.  The turtle, however, did enjoy the Beatles.  I knew it was still alive by its labored breathing and occasional scooting in the box.  I glanced at it every few minutes, trying to reassure both the turtle and myself that we would arrive soon.

            Finally I spotted the small white building and pulled into the gravel parking lot.  The front office was small and cramped—a desk with a computer, file cabinets, a mini fridge with microwave on top, two chairs and a door opening to the rest of the building.  I was greeted by their intern and filled out paperwork stating who I was and where I had found the turtle.  The turtle was whisked away and I asked, “So, what happens now?”  I didn’t want to leave the box turtle.

            “Well, someone will check its condition and start to fix it.  If we can’t do it here, we will send it to the Turtle Team.  They have a lot of equipment we don’t have, so they might be better.  Once rehabilitated, we release it by a water source as close as possible to where is was found.”  She wrote the turtle’s case file number on a post-it and handed it to me, “You can call and see how it’s doing if its still here.  Or we’ll tell you it went to the Turtle Team.”

            “Thank you,” I smiled, and stood up to leave.  A man had come in with a box of baby Starlings that had fallen out of their nest in his yard.  His daughter wanted him to bring them in since one had already died.  “Have a nice day,” I told the man.  Tired, I was filled with hope that the little turtle would be okay and glad that I had helped it.

            I drove back into Pittsboro for my later appointment.  It was everything I had hoped it would be.  Through the exercises, I felt as if my chest had opened up and my neck and shoulder muscles relaxed.  I left feeling centered and grounded.

           

            Back home, I evaluated how I felt: wiped out, but better than before.  My mindfulness teacher had told my class about a talk held this evening by international meditation teacher, Leigh Brasington, at Triangle Insight on Duke’s campus.  I weighed whether I should go or not, whether my body could handle it.  I quickly decided to go; this was a rare opportunity.  I drove back to Durham.

            Leigh Brasington is both a Buddhist scholar and a meditation teacher and practitioner.  Usually, a person is one or the other, so he is unique.  His area of focus is concentration and insight meditation, which I find to be very interesting and something I look forward to attempting.  We began with a simple 30-minute mindfulness meditation, the room packed with people looking to deepen their practice.  We were called back to the room by the ringing of a singing bowl.

            He then told us a story from the Digha Nikaya, which is the dialogue of the Buddha.  Called, “The Fruits of Spiritual Life,” the story is of a king who is wracked with guilt for killing his father.  Wanting to quiet his mind, he seeks out the Buddha and asked him to point out any “fruits of leading a spiritual life that are visible here and now.”  The Buddha proceeds to describe the entire path of training from beginning to full Enlightenment.  The whole story is very interesting and strengthened my resolve even more to continue my mindfulness practice.

            After a short question-and-answer period, followed by a short loving-kindness meditation, we broke for refreshments.  As I headed to the door I looked back, wanting to say something to Leigh, to meet him, but feeling a bit inadequate.  What the heck.  I turned around and approached the small circle consisting of three of the founders of Triangle Insight, including my teacher, the founder of the MBSR program at Duke, Jeff Brantley, and Leigh. 

            When there was a break in conversation, I smiled, thanked Leigh for coming, and offered my hand.  He accepted my hand with both of his and thanked me for being there.  My teacher said, “Lindsay is one of my students in the MBSR class that just finished.”  Leigh looked at me approvingly. 

            “It’s great,” I stammered.  “I feel as if I am... blossoming!” 

            One of the teachers turned to me, “You look as if you were blossoming.”  Jeff Brantley chuckled.

            “I’m happy to have begun this so early,” I said.  “I mean, I was the youngest one in the class. And I have so much more to learn.”

            “I hope to see you at one of my retreats,” Leigh replied.

            “Some day you will!”  I said.  “I look forward to continuing down this path.”

            We all smiled and I thanked them all again and waved goodbye as I walked out the door.

            The night was beautiful and warm.  The sky clear, perfect sliver of the moon above the western horizon, sweet blossoms carried by the breeze.   I drove home, recalling the extraordinary events of the day.  A simple story, turned beautiful by gently cupping each moment in my hands as it passed, held in wonder, watched with compassion, precious.