Mushrooms on the Greenbelt

Just before moving from Long Island, I was invited on a little day hike along part of the Greenbelt Trail. This system of nearly 200 miles of trails through many of the parks and recreation areas throughout the island is a well kept secret of many hiking enthusiasts. Although I had hiked on some of the trails before, I had no idea that an entrance to a trail leading to one of the parks was practically a stone’s throw from my apartment. If we are open to it, even a familiar place has a few surprise adventures awaiting.

On this particularly hot, humid day, the trail offered a people-free respite from the heat with beautiful lakes, woods, and streams. Nature cooperated, too, with a National Geographic moment: a swan family was having a little afternoon time by the lake. On a smaller scale, the high humidity created the perfect conditions for a few mushrooms. One of them appeared smack dab on the sandy trail on the return trip home. Because this was the exact same trail we had taken on the way in, I wondered whether I had missed it or the little fungus had just sprouted within a matter of hours....

Mushrooms, like most living things, are born with reproduction in mind, and the mushroom parts we see are actually the fungi’s fruiting bodies that release spores. They are not plants; mushrooms contain no chlorophyll, so they break down nonliving organic matter for nutrition.  Before we even see the little hats or umbrella tops, the fungus has been preparing itself behind the scenes. In contrast to plants and animals, which develop through cell division, mushrooms increase in size by expanding the cells it already has. When the right conditions are present--i.e., humidity, or moisture--the mushroom has all it needs to sprout; this is why it appears to grow instantaneously.

Our physical bodies are pretty autonomous, repairing, building, and maintaining its cells on autopilot. Our mental, spiritual, and emotional selves, though, can take a lesson from the mushroom kingdom. We have all we need to grow and expand; the outside conditions are already present.  The only internal ingredients we need to add are our desire, intention, and faith, as we define them.

Defensive Cycling

When I first moved to Long Island in 2008, I took a long ride around my new town and its beautiful waterfronts. As I was casually cruising through the final tenth-of-a-mile stretch through the neighborhood, a speeding van nearly ran me over. The driver, on an oxygen tank I might add, scolded me  for riding down the "middle" of the street. She huffed some expletives about cyclists, to which I calmly responded: "You realize this is a neighborhood where kids play, and not a freeway?"  See, many impatient drivers [redundant, I know] use this side street to circumvent traffic lights. People also live here and park on the street, so I defensively tend to ride away from the parked cars to avoid the unfortunate mishap of someone carelessly opening a car door without looking for an oncoming bicycle.[Painful]  

Forget those hours of online or comedy defensive driving courses--the quickest and most effective way to learn defensive driving is to ride a road bicycle on Long Island.  From May until the end of September I will usually log more miles on my bicycle than my car. [Full disclosure: I live about four miles from my office]  Not only is cycling a beautiful way to see parts of New York, it also teaches me to be a more defensive, and hopefully more careful driver.

The first rule of the road for cyclists is to pretend you are a car and never assume the car drivers see you.  On Long Island, between the cigarette lighting, the texting, the redlight running, the honking, and the phoning, it is not difficult to figure out the cyclist is invisible. Also, when approaching an intersection, know that drivers in Suffolk County will always overshoot the stop sign and put half the front end of the car into the oncoming traffic before slowing down. Again, bikes are invisible.

Perhaps it would help to educate drivers a little bit about why cyclists do what they do. Sometimes we come out of the two-foot-wide bike lane we have been allotted and venture into the car lane. Most of the time this happens not because we prefer the car lane; it is because we want to avoid the potholes, debris, beer bottles, and roadkill in the bike lane. And sometimes cars are parked there [often  illegally] or other cyclists are pedaling the wrong way toward us. The signs asking drivers and cyclists to share the road are not without purpose.  

Now to be fair, as a cyclist and self-appointed traffic cop for the universe, I can complain about cyclists on behalf of drivers. Just because we may be in a peloton or a gaggle of cyclists does not mean we own the road. We need to share with cars, not just other cyclists.  If the urge to ride two- or three- abreast takes over for that essential roadbike conversation, at least move into single file when you hear and see a car. [By the way, New York City Traffic Rules & Regulations § 1234 prohibits more than two cyclists riding abreast]  It helps to cycle defensively: look ahead; plan ahead; and pay attention. Signal to cars where you are going and what you are doing with [appropriate] gestures, ride with traffic, and observe stop signs and red lights as a car would.  

It also helps to be polite with other cyclists.  Always pass on the left and let the cyclist know you are doing so, and the person being passed should courteously move slightly to the right to allow you over safely.  

We can enjoy the big race of life without compromising the health and safety of our selves or others.  And cars, be patient.  The fact that we are on our bicycles means we are not out on the road in our cars!

May 1, 2011 Five Borough Bike Ride

Horton Point Lighthouse
Bike Boat Bike June 2011

Heartride May 21, 2011

Watermill, Amagansett,
The Ride to Montauk
June 18, 2011

Removing the Hair Shirt

A Chinese anecdote jokes about a fortune teller who tells a client he [client] will suffer a hard life until he is about forty years old, and then the suffering stops. The client asks what happens at age forty to alleviate his suffering, and the fortune teller replies, “You get used to it.”

The funny part of the joke also contains the not-so-funny truth: When we willingly accept, tolerate, or endure parts of our life that are less than, we become comfortably numb to it. As the Eagles remind us, “often times . . . we live our lives in chains, and we never even know we have the key.” Even if we feel the need for change, we may also feel uncertain where or how to begin. The wide chasm between where we are and where we want to be spans a void of unknown and that can render us immobile.

So, start with the known. Mentally step back and observe the known snapshots of your life. Like watching a movie trailer, you can review snippets of what key events brought you to this point. Let the momentum build to the cliffhanger of the lead character’s [your] next big move. As the scriptwriter for this lead role, what do you envision for the denouement ? You get to create the scenes where you courageously take the risk and choose the less conventional route. This less traveled road, as described by Robert Frost, makes all the difference.
 
As easy as this seems in principle, instigating change requires courage. It also requires awareness of any self-imposed suffering. I write in terms of choice because I am often reminded of a hairshirt when people share their reasons why they are not living the life they want; in other words, the reasons why they are suffering. Early Christians wore a hair-cloth article of clothing [initially goat’s hair and eventually camel hair or wire, woven into a shirt and worn underneath clothes] to "serve as an unostentatious antidote for the outward luxury and comfort of their lives." Later, during the Middle Ages, lay people used this same type of hair "shirt" as a form of penitence. Today, members of certain religious orders wear them as a rule, while others choose to wear one to do penance. See www.newadvent.org/cathen/07113b.htm.

The Keys to Unlock the Chains

Regardless of your religious beliefs or upbringing, the hair shirt is a perfect metaphor for the types of symbolic suffering we choose.*  We suffer in shame, guilt, and a variety of other physical, emotional, spiritual, and intellectual ways:

I can’t do this because...
I feel guilty because...
I am obligated to...
I should/shouldn’t...
I’m ashamed of....
 
These phrases beg the question of who you are living your life for. Who are you responsible to? If you are a parent you do have responsibility to your children; the rest of your life, though, is yours. Evaluate your excuse arsenal to determine whether your reasons are actually true or necessary and whether they serve you. You may realize you have finished doing penance and are ready to remove the hairshirt. It is time to live a more comfortable daily life for you.

As an exercise, ask yourself: What do I really want? Really want?
Ask again. And again, until you peel back those layers and laugh out loud or feel a giant lump in your throat [the truth].

Now, ask yourself: Why am I not allowing myself to have this? Make the list of excuses.  Then, allow yourself to imagine if you could have it. Visualize it in a way that embraces all five senses.  Finally, take the list of excuses and challenge the truth of them; decide you no longer need them.

Now is the time.

*The Bare Naked Ladies song lyrics for Good Boy, eloquently express the hairshirt metaphor.