Shodoshima

A Buddhist monk in straw sandals boarded the bullet train. He held a conical sedge hat. He was well over 6 feet tall, bald, young, calm. Without a word, without even a glance in my direction, he reminded me to remain grounded in the present. Peace and joy rest in the present moment, not two weeks from today or in last week’s prayer service. To live in the present is to be truly alive.

I planned to paddle from the coast of Honshu to some of the islands off the coast in the Sea of Japan. I didn’t know the sea personally; didn’t know its temperament. In what direction did the winds blow? How strong were the currents? How large were the swells? As soon as I get off the train, I appraised the weather. Every pinch of wind, every unfurled flag, every gray cloud unnerved me.

            I began the day with a prayer and a song. Except my prayers were a bit more fervent than usual. Could a small prayer calm the seething seas? Maybe not, but it could calm the mind. The songs bolstered up my spirit and set me straight. “How gentle God’s commands. How kind his precepts are! Come cast your burdens on the Lord and trust his constant care…” It was just the stuff to calm rattled nerves.

I assembled the Feathercraft Kahuna, a folding kayak which I carried in an oversized backpack. I launched at 9. The winds were strong. I shuddered and prayed, but launched anyway. I thought I’d find some respite in the lee of any of the many islands which I spotted off-shore. I paddled out to the first island, but was disheartened. The wind hadn’t abated. The currents were strong and contrary. I beached the kayak and sat dejectedly trying to decide whether to return or continue. It seemed more perilous to return… and cowardly. The winds were strong, but they would hasten me along to Shodoshima.

I practiced the same techniques recommended by Dr. Norman Vincent Peale which I had applied during the day at Salton Sea in California. It was a technique designed to empty the mind of fear, impatience, stress, or whatever was ailing it. I would repeat to myself over and over: “With God’s help, I am ridding my mind of anxiety…” until I felt my mind being emptied of fear. Then I would repeat:  “My mind is empty of fear” until I believed this. Finally I would utter:  “With God’s help, I am filling my mind with confidence.” I repeated this until the mind was convinced. This was all I needed to correct my course and to disconnect that propensity to worry.

The sea would undo the man who lacked a disciplined mind. A disciplined mind is indispensable. A disciplined mind is an invaluable asset. With such a mind, a man can accomplish what he will. He can check his anxieties, prejudices, and any other negative thoughts which siphon off the energy which would otherwise fuel his resolve. This was the lesson of the day.

The sea is an unforgiving and hard taskmaster. The sea keeps my mind from straying too far. At sea, I feel fragile and small. I flirt with mortality. A heavy sea can swallow me up, toss me, crush me, pummel me. The sea reminds me of the impermanence of life. Life seems all the more precious, fragile, and brief. I breath. I imagine my lungs stopped up with the briny sea. I move. I imagine bloated, lifeless limbs. I feel the breeze caressing my face. I feel the warmth of my hands in my gloves and I want to weep. How I will miss it all, I think. Now, I feel, see, hear, and think more clearly. How many days have I truly lived? I’ve misspent many precious hours. But, God willing, there will be many more to enjoy. It’s nice to be alive. When I die, I leave behind all attachments and all impressions- colors, smells, sounds, sentiments, pleasures, animosities, friends.

I’m like a child in an amusement park. I don’t want to leave. I haven’t seen all of the attractions and I want to hop on some of the rides again. But Mother Death, apologetic, takes my hand. “We must be going soon.” 

Living is a privilege. To be born, wars had to be fought and won or lost, airplanes had to be invented, revolutions had to occur, hurricanes had to raze villages and floods had to level ancient cities. If history hadn’t happened as it did, if my parents hadn’t met, if they hadn’t played love games, I wouldn’t exist and neither would the world as I’ve experienced it. Perhaps those yet born drive events so that they might live.

I paddled for hours enjoying these reveries. I got to the island and paddled past the breakwater into a marina. I beached the boat and met some folks who were having a picnic and enjoying lunch. I asked them where I might find lodging and they gave me directions to an inn not too far from the marina.

Journal:

I’ve just had a bath and am comfortably installed in a Japanese inn. My room is tatami-matted. I peer out the window and see, behind a gray tiled roof, wooded hills. I’m wearing a yukata, a summer robe. The vest is thick-sleeved and patterned with dark colors. I paddled for 5 hours, but my body wasn’t as conditioned as I thought. Still, it held up pretty well. I have no aches or soreness, only fatigue. I’m interrupted by the lovely song of a Japanese wagtail. I pause to listen.

This adventure promises to be magical if I am open to receive the blessings. But to sing, to walk, to breath, to read, to sleep, to think, to love, to listen is magical too. What more do I need? Winged fairies? Whispering trees? Dragons? Flying carpets? Considering odds against me or you being born were one in a ten million...

Magical indeed. I didn’t have a bicycle, but asked for one, and the hostess loaned me hers. I prayed for friends and met some folks along the way. All of these wishes, must be approved by the Force that pulses through the universe and gives it breath. I cycled the island.

Next day, I paddled seven hours to a small fishing village in Himase. Then I continued to Himeji. I had accomplished what I had set out to do: discipline my mind. Didn’t want to think of the wind as an adversary, but to accept whatever with a detached mind. My thoughts are not worth clinging to. They’re capricious. All of those vagrant thoughts which I once heeded and believed are chimeras. I watch my breath instead and find the exercise much more pleasant.