Many years ago, I was driving home from a wonderful one-day writing/mindfulness retreat led by my old friend Wendy Johnson and Maxine Hong Kingston. It was a deeply nourishing day. I had never met Maxine before, but I was inspired and moved by her presence and her work. For many years, Wendy and I used to help organize family meditation retreats with Thich Nhat Hanh. I was reminded of the songs we used to sing, including a simple and lovely song about the breath:
In
Out
Deep
Slow
Calm
Ease
Smile
Release
Present Moment
Wonderful Moment
Thich Nhat Hanh taught us these words. Yvonne Rand, another old friend from Zen Center changed the last line to “Only Moment”. I am drawn to both versions and often alternate them. How can I keep remembering that each moment is the “only moment” and how can I discover the wonder and joy in each moment? These are good questions for me. I used to sing this song to my children when they were little. And when any of us were upset, the song helped to calm us down. I remember one day when my daughter had fallen down and her leg was bleeding. As I was trying to wash it, she said “Sing the song, mommy!” So, I did, and we breathed and sang as we washed away the blood and put on the band aid.
I had forgotten about this song and I had not sung it for a while. I left the retreat as it was turning dark and I found myself singing the song as I watched the light change and the redwoods take shape in the dark. The drive ahead of me was about two hours or more with traffic…and I had to drive over Highway 17 which is a winding road over the mountain. The last time I drove this road in the dark, I was frightened. My night vision is slightly altered and the curves were narrow with lots of oncoming traffic and bright lights. I could still feel in my body the fear and anxiety that consumed me as I drove the last time and wondered how it would be this time. I kept singing this little song as I drove….over and over again and it was new each moment….new with each breath. I was interested to feel how it influenced me as I drove up Highway 17. I kept landing in breath…and not only in breath. The invitations of the words spoke to my hands as I discovered I was gripping the steering wheel. Where was “smiling” in my hands? They changed. And then once again I would discover I was gripping and there was “release”… And on and on I sang…connecting to the ease that arrived, and the tightening that wanted to let go and the opening in my belly and the releasing in my toes. I smiled as I sang “wonderful moment” as I glimpsed the Friday night traffic jam on Highway 280. And I landed new in breath and could feel the wonder of this moment of simply being where I was, as it was….the moving and stopping traffic and the ongoing greeting of breath.
It was a wonder-filled drive in the quiet of my car surrounded by stalled or zooming cars, and the gift of coming to quiet and connecting with both my own extra effort and the capacity to let it go.
