verge (vʉrj)
the edge, brink, or margin (of something): also used figuratively the verge of the forest, on the verge of hysteria

to tend or incline (to or toward)
to be in the process of change or transition into something else; pass gradually (into) dawn verging into daylight

Tuesday, August 25, 2009


Bodhicitta: The wish to attain complete enlightenment in order to be of benefit to all sentient beings -- beings who are trapped in cyclic existence (samsāra) and have not yet reached Buddhahood. One who has bodhicitta as the primary motivation for all of their activities is called a bodhisattva.

Meet Boo.  He's on his way to Buddhahood.  I managed to take his picture during a recent walking meditation.  He's a dog of few words but one feels his presence in the room and he has assumed the role of the wise sage in his home and neighborhood.  He lives the life of a monk, spending hours in quiet contemplation and taking up the smallest amount of space possible.  He shows unparalleled gratitude for any offerings related to food and taste.

I'm not sure where exactly Boo is on his path towards enlightenment but he's gotta be getting close.  In a past lifetime, he was a perfume tester.  He can't resist finding tidbits of odor-laden treasures to slather all over his back.  He was also a cat--he's especially tolerant of cats.  He was never a chipmunk--no apparent tolerance there, anyway.  This lifetime, he has chosen to come as a Golden Retrieverist, and clearly it's good karma for him.

Boo walks, and with attention to detail.  He observes.  He doesn't judge--at least not in words or woofs.  He has an odd curiosity about electric power boxes and can't pass one without inspecting the hum.  Or perhaps it's not a hum, but an Ommmmm.  Boo's more attuned to the Path than I am.

Take today, for example.  We're walking our walk.  Actually, Boo is walking our walk, and in doing so he is at one with the ground, the sky, and the birds.  And I, I am lollygagging along, and instead of being 'at one with', I am 'at about six with' a variety of thoughts, concerns and ideas.  I'm telling Obama what to do, planning next summer, adding up the outgoing bills against the incoming checks, arranging furniture in wherever I'm going to live next, remembering to tell the girls how to make gazpacho, thinking of ways to either paint or blow up the backyard fence, when all of a sudden I am jolted into the Right Here Right Now by Boo who is now determined to be 'at one' with the UPS truck.  Arrrgghhhh--the UPS truck! I always forget!  Boo has uncanny radar for this guy and if I had been 'at one' I would have noticed his approach in the distance.  His truck is unmistakeable.  Don't all UPS trucks sound the very same?  Have you ever noticed that?  I swear--the sound must be manufactured right into them. I mean, it's not like this was a foreign experience to me.  But Boo, in all his 'one-ness' heard it because he was of course tuned in to the Right Here Right Now.

When Boo wants to 'connect' to the UPS truck, he adopts the same MPH that the truck is going and runs along side in parallel fashion.  His coat streams behind him like Buddhist prayer flags high up on Everest. He actually becomes the UPS truck.  He doubles--no, quadruples--in size and stature, and his feet become big round rubbery tires that cling to the pavement and go to someplace that is not right where we are at that moment, and he likes to get there very fast--as fast as the truck we are trying to become.  And I, I am snapped out of my stupor--my right arm now 4 tenths of a mile longer than it was before becoming one with the truck--and I find myself unwittingly airborn, doing some sort of yogic flying or levitating or god-only-knows what, still firmly attached to Boo, the leash, and my arm. And the driver seems to think it's fun.  Well, I have some thoughts about guy must be 'at one' with the monotony if that's his idea of fun.

And when my arm has shrunken back to its shorter length, and Boo, busy, is realigning himself with the absence of the UPS truck and the presence of a granite boulder on the left (piddle is a great channel for experiencing 'at one-ness'), I look to Boo and thank him for reminding me to pay attention to the Right Here Right Now.  I laugh and ask him for more gentle reminders, but this one will stick for awhile. 

As Boo would probably say, take two Tylenol and just say Ommmmm.

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