Shoveling Snow

Before Enlightenment chop wood carry water, after Enlightenment, chop wood carry water.

In my case, shovel snow. Yesterday afternoon I ventured forth, with a reserve of energy built up during a morning of watching British crime drama on the telly, to shovel the driveway and sidewalk. My neighbor was out with his snowblower working overtime on the heavy, wet slush. He soon put the burned out machine away and applied some elbow grease to clearing his own driveway and walk. That stuff was heavy! Soon I was working up a sweat underneath my wool coat, hat and gloves. My neighbor took off his coat and was shoveling in only a plain white T-shirt. I liked the work out, feeling my back muscles hug to midline, guessing the right amount of thrust to get the piles from the shovel to the right spot on the sidelines. I varied my technique, sometimes shoveling and tossing, sometimes snowplowing sodden heaps to the edges, forming an icy embankment. My moodiness of the morning had been nothing a little physical labor couldn't cure.

I was thinking about a paragraph in Rebel Buddha I had read:

"Our journey becomes our life itself, and our practice is relating with everyday situations as they manifest and play out in our minds and emotions and in the minds and emotions of others. When you operate on such a fundamental level, there is a natural flow of communication between you and your world. When you talk to your neighbors using the language and experience of everyday life, they will understand you."

I was taking it a bit out of context as I shoveled, wondering about this other human out there who lives just a stone's throw away and with whom I doubted I'd ever had a conversation. I'm a bit shy by nature, you see, but that's no excuse. So as I worked and sweated, I thought of a few ice-breakers--pun intended.  My neighbor finished his walk before I finished mine and came across the street to offer his assistance and the conversation went a little something like this:

D: Do you want some help with the rest of your sidewalk?

J: Sure, if you're looking for a workout. Great way to build up a sweat.

D: Yes. That's been one of my goals for this week, to work out, so yeah.

J: Awesome! (Awesome is one of those words I say habitually as a 2nd grade teacher. I'd like to wean it from my vocabulary, but it keeps sneaking in.) Thanks!

D:  I'm Danny, by the way. I've met your husband, but...

J: Yeah, I'm Jen.

D: Jen?

J: Jen.

So we nodded, smiled, and, as they say in Mormondom, put our shoulders to the wheel. I'll be damned if Danny wasn't a little bit shy himself, but gathered up his good will to help out a neighbor--and a heathen neighbor at that. It was a nice exchange, a natural flow of communication between me and another. Made my day, truth be told. We finished up, talked about the density of the snow and how it nearly killed his snowblower, then he was off to the warmth of the interior of his house, and I was soon snuggled inside watching another episode of "Wire in the Blood."

Funny enough, it wasn't an hour later when the wind picked up and I was looking out the window at white-out blizzard conditions. My driveway was covered again in minutes. No matter. Before enlightenment shovel snow, after enlightenment shovel snow. Ain't no big thang!