Taking Refuge in My Saddle

I take refuge in the Buddha.
I take refuge in the Dharma.
I take refuge in the Sangha.

I recently moved to Southwestern Pennsylvania to be closer to family, and to take care of my childhood home.  It was a move made with compassion, out of a sense of kinship, and perhaps sprinkled with a bit of familial responsibility.  Thus far, life has felt a little chaotic.  Renovating, repairing and settling in to our home has been wonderfully rewarding and inexplicably exhausting.  

In addition to the chaos in our personal lives, our world continues to be rocked by tragedy and turmoil.  While the war in Ukraine (alongside the countless conflicts that don’t make headlines) continues to wreak havoc and horror, we in the United States have witnessed two mass shootings in the past few weeks, claiming the lives of both young and old.  While wild fires continue to rage in the Western US, in the East many are preparing for hurricane season, which officially begins today.  There are numerous people still struggling with variations of COVID, strawberries were recently linked to an outbreak of Hepatitis A, hate speech continues, many are homeless…and, Earth continues to spin, paying homage to Sun and Moon at the confluence of light and dark.

In these confusing, confounding, and breathtaking days I’m finding solace on my bike.  I’m taking refuge in the saddle of Seven.  

Recently, a new friend asked if my bicycle was my “way of getting away, something that helps you escape the onslaught of the daily news.”  At first, I smiled, and looked off in the distance, tilting my head a bit to the right to convey how seriously I was taking her question.  “Hmm,” I thoughtfully reply.  “I think I ride with all of it in my heart.  It’s not about escaping or getting away from anything,” I muse.  “Rather, on my bike it all feels more manageable to hold.”  I then talked about my spiritual practice of sitting zazen in the mornings after I wake, and later sitting in my saddle with the same intention of being with whatever is happening within and outside of me.  “It’s definitely hard sometimes,” I admit, “both on the cushion and in my saddle, trying not to grab on to any one thing.”  

When I’m sitting in the mornings there are days when I struggle to let go of the “one more thing” that needs to be fixed or replaced in this wonderful old house; times when an announcement of another calamity in our world community can pin my heart to the floor, leaving me flapping and flailing with fear; and, moments when I can’t let go of a phone call from a friend about her dying parent, and seem only to sit in a saturating stupor of my own stunning sadness.  Similarly, when sitting on my saddle there are moments when a car cutting me off, and the driver screaming an obscenity, can leave me seething in unsteadiness; times when aching muscles scream for release when I still have 36 miles to pedal before arriving home; and, moments when I ride with regret for something I said, or perhaps shouted, to a loved one who was only trying to help.  

Much of the time, however, the saddle of my bike, like my cushion, is where I am most aware of my interconnectedness with all, where I feel held and sheltered amidst the vagaries and varieties of daily life.  In my saddle and on my cushion, I am in, what Parker Palmer calls, “the tragic gap,” striving to live a whole, equanimous life in a perplexing, pernicious, and tremendously precious world.

In Buddhism we speak of taking refuge in the Three Jewels: the Buddha, the dharma, and the sangha.  By refuge, we do not seek to escape or evade the complicated realities of living in the world.  Instead, refuge enables us to embrace both the harsh realities and sweet actualities in the world.  When we take refuge in the Buddha we are connecting with the Buddha, the figure at the center of our tradition, and the buddha nature that lives in all earthly and other-worldly Beings.  Taking refuge in the dharma we honor the teachings and traditions, written, spoken and felt, by those who came before us, surround us, and simultaneously exist fully in their emptiness and completeness.  And, taking refuge in the sangha, we celebrate our kinship with all living beings, settling into the support that springs from within and outside of us.

Cycling has always provided release and respite for me; time in the saddle exploring a new road, meandering a familiar trail, even pedaling a short stint to pick up groceries or return a library book, my bike is where my breathing calms and my body relaxes, where my mind slows down and my heart opens wide, where I feel at one with all that is taking place within and around me.  In the refuge of my saddle, like my cushion, I am in, of and with my world fully and faithfully, sitting at the confluence of what can be blinding and illuminating, diminishing and energizing.

In these confusing, confounding, and breathtaking days I hope you are finding solace.  And, I invite you to take refuge in whatever enlivens your heart and soothes your beautiful being.

Pedal on!