Metta to the Editor

A few days ago, the temperatures here in southwestern Pennsylvania reached and hovered around 50 degrees Fahrenheit for a whole afternoon.  I couldn’t help myself.  I had to get out and pedal!  I chose to jump on a rail trail not far from home.  I knew it would most likely be muddy and messy.  And, would probably be teeming with people hiking and biking.  And, that only made the prospect of pedaling for the afternoon that much sweeter.  

I tend to hibernate in the winters.  Anyone who knows me well knows that when the cold weather arrives, usually around the end of November, I start to move inward.  I become more pensive and present to a more mellow internal rhythm, a slow, soothing and softer way of being.  When days like the one earlier this week come around, however, when the temperatures outside are more conducive to pedaling without layers and lobster claws, my internal cadence quickens, and I have to indulge it.

So, I did.  I set out actually eager to see other people on the trail, excited to say “Hello” and enjoy the warmth of a sunny day alongside those, who like me, tend to hunker when it’s cold. I was having a ball.  My bike and I were quickly getting covered and caked in mud, people were passing with sizable smiles on their faces, and the world just felt welcoming and warm.

Then I came to a stop sign, at a roadway I needed to cross to continue on the trail.  There was a stream of cars with drivers who didn’t seem at all interested in slowing down to let me cross.  I could feel tension climbing up my neck, as I wondered why anyone could be in such a hurry on this beautiful day.  As I watched the cars speed past me, I tried to remember breathing; I tried to calm my increasing frustration, and center my heart on patience.  And, for the most part, I was successful.  Then, there was a break in the traffic, at least enough so that I could quickly cross the street.  I put my feet up on my pedals, and proceeded to make my move. 

Just before reaching the other side of the road, a car came careening around the curb.  I got to the other side without incident.  But, not without that tension in my neck letting out a shriek!  “Damn it!” I hollered, and shook my head.  My knees were knocking, and my hands tingled as I loosened my grips.

As I pedaled away, feeling angry and scared, I started to do what I have often done in these kinds of situations: search for a way to gain back my control. And, one of those mechanisms for reclaiming my power has been through writing.  So, for the next few pedal strokes I composed a Letter to the Editor in my head.  I’ve often thought that if I could just write the right thing, tell people what it’s like to be pedaling a two-wheeled vehicle when someone driving a four-wheeled vehicle comes close to taking me out, perhaps some of those drivers would begin to understand, have a little more compassion, and maybe even change their driving behavior.  If I could just find the right words….

There’s nothing wrong with Letters to the Editor.  They can be powerful pieces for disseminating information, and expressing opinions that others might need to hear.  And, writing letters from a place of anger and fear, at least for me…well, the message can get missed or mired in the ire of the moment. I needed another strategy for attending to my distress.

Metta Meditation, or lovingkindness, the practice of cultivating and circulating compassion, understanding and love for one’s self and the world, is a deeply empowering, empathetic, and effective action to take just about anywhere and anytime.  Many practitioners of lovingkindness, or any meditation, suggest that one needs to be still, be calm in one’s body, and breathe slowly while meditating and/or reciting particular words.  These are things that can easily be practiced on the bicycle.  In fact, I begin every ride with Metta because I believe it helps me to settle into my saddle with equanimity and elasticity, affording me the ability to respond as flexibly and openly as possible to any situation that might arise on my rides.  This doesn’t mean that I don’t get scared, or feel anger, or have moments of wanting to throw my water bottle at someone who ticked me off.  It does mean that I have something I can return to, something that will help me to soothe my frenzy, slow my breathing, soften my body, and send love, compassion and understanding to those outside of myself who are suffering in ways of their own.

With a few deep breaths, I slowed my strokes, and proceeded to mutter some Metta:

May I be safe,

May I be strong,

May I be steady,

May I be soulful.

May you be safe,

May you be strong,

May you be steady,

May you be soulful.

May all be safe,

May all be strong,

May all be steady,

May all be soulful.

The time between my reactions to experiences like the one with the careening car and my response of lovingkindness is lessening significantly with practice.  Someday I may write and submit a Letter to the Editor about my cycling experiences alongside cars.  And, my hope is that that letter will be one that is motivated by curiosity and compassion, not rage and revulsion.  For now, sitting with and sending Metta from atop my metal mare feels just as, if not more, powerful and purposeful.  How do you react and respond to situations that evoke anger and anxiety?  How does your body feel in those moments?  And, what works to help you soothe your fears and slow your frenzy?

Happy February, friends.  Thank you for following along today. 

Pedal on!