I ran again this morning. I try to run when I’m not travelling or in early meetings. At best this gives me exercise half the time.
It was still cold and the limited light painted a bleak landscape; subtle beauty. There was a mild northerly wind which meant that on the first stretch, I took the biting cold in the face. The wind crept through the gaps in my running gear and through the seams of my gloves, wrapping itself around my fingers.
Goodness, I have fingers!? The cold wind followed the contours of my fingers and hand and I could feel the precise shapes with biting precision. I experienced hand.
A satori sensation. I experienced face and nose and ears as well. I have a body? I knew this from the mirror and indirectly through self touching so it was not an intellectual surprise. A direct experience of body. How extraordinary.
Cold wind will tell you where your cheekbones are and horizontal sleet will let you experience the skin on your face. No sleet, no skin. Only the memory of skin.
When I rounded the far end of the lake, the wind fell behind me and I lost my body. It became that invisible form that usually sits in perfectly shaped chairs perfectly unaware of itself. Why can’t it rain in my office? Where is the biting cold or blistering heat, for that matter. (Note to self: move desk outside).
The elements around us give rise to us. No elements, no us. Just like there are no waves if there are no clouds to reflect in them. No ducks without ponds.
Us humans are a utterly lost in our pursuit of pursuit. We try to escape the duality of life by building perfect spaces to live in; perfect situations to feel safe in. In the process we lose the very thing that we try to preserve. Our very self.
Thank goodness for experience of hand.