A Tuesday, 8:15am ~ Lady Bird Lake in Austin, TX ~ 86°F/feels like 95°F with humidity
On a recent morning walk—the best time to beat the heat in Austin—I began a metta meditation where I greeted every person on the trail with a mental “I love you”.
Mental meaning I’m not literally telling people at 8am that I love them. Not entirely sure how that would go over. The silent, mental, greeting seemed to work well, though. I quickly found myself dropping into that warm-fuzzy feeling that often pairs well with a metta meditation.
As I walked, I experienced the sensation of being more open to my fellow humans, more connected in our shared experience of walking/running/cycling the lakefront path on a hot, muggy Austin summer morning. I easily offered my smile and short greetings of “hello”, and received in-kind the sharing back of more smiles and greetings. A generative, earnest exercise if there ever was one.
Practicing metta with unwitting strangers
is weird, I thought to myself,
giggling with joy
On second thought, no.
It’s the most not-weird thing I’ve done in a while
Greeting people with loving-kindness
is the most natural overture I could possibly make,
and this is beautiful
Perhaps I found my way to the practice, this exact morning, because I’d bought a double-walled metal water bottle for myself. Filled said water bottle with ice cold water, and brought it with me for my daily walk for the first time. Another trick to stave off the wicked heat.
I’d also used a new approach to help my skin from overreacting to the extreme temps—applying a salve recommended by a friend— and as a result, I successfully contended with the strong sun.
Indeed, I was practicing loving-kindness towards myself. And it was spilling out onto the trail and extended to every human I passed by, and some animals and plants if I’m being honest.
As I neared the juncture where I exited the trail, and navigated back home by surface streets, a rather obstrusive thought emerged into my consciousness: energetically speaking, sharing an “I love you” to passersby also felt like saying “goodbye”. How curious!
Was it the act of literally walking by someone, greeting them in passing? Or was there something deeper and more profound at-work here?
Naturally, my mind wandered to what goodbye meant, and rather quickly I slipped down a slope and found myself wading around knee deep in… death. Hello darkness, my old friend.
Here’s the thing, death and I are thick as thieves. I’ve a preternatural interest and comfort around death. If you’ve recently lost someone, are experiencing a break-up, or leaving a job, all of that ~ g r i e f ~ you’re experiencing? The tension between embracing what was, and letting go to move on? I like to hold the space right there, at the fork in the road.
In grief, in loss, in death - there’s a correspondent joy of new beginnings. You just have to look for it. And you have to let go of the past. Or else you risk the darkness subsuming you. Which is perfectly reasonable (having the darkness subsume you), at least for a period of time. It’s just not the greatest place to pitch a camp. Trust me, I set-up a permanent domicile here for a while and it gets dark, really dark. Stagnation isn’t a pretty thing.
So you see, there’s an opponent-processing between love & death. A symbiotic relationship best held in balance. Too much love, you’ll get high on your own supply. Too much death, you’ll dig your own grave.
Sometimes, if you’re lucky, you’ll get this reminder on a hot, humid morning while you’re out for a stroll. Life can be simple like that, if you let it.
So the next time you’re on a walk, why not try a little metta on for size. Greet those you see with an “I love you”, a simple passing thought and then let them go. Continue on your journey. Let love show you the way.
