Training Wheels

Several years ago, our daughters learned how to ride their bikes. I came across the pictures of that day recently, the determined looks on their faces so vivid as the whipping wind blew back the strands of hair that poked out from underneath their helmets. For a year or so prior to these days they rode with training wheels. Even with them those first few runs were wobbly, hesitant experiences.  Day after day they were more comfortable with wobbling, falling, until their falls were fewer and farther between. After many days of practice the day came when they wanted to up the ante and take off those training wheels. Their father complied, placing the wheels in the garage in the event that they needed them back. Now the stakes were higher. They wobbled more, fell more, practiced more, until the effort to ride was no effort at all.

The zabuton and zafu are bathed in sunlight on what has turned out to be an unseasonably warm day. They are always there, welcoming me back to just sit.  I am reminded that this is my space of practice of trying on how it feels to just sit with myself without running to or from. It is day one of the collective sit with Sharon and the thousands who have committed to sit. We sit for many reasons that distill to one – to connect.