MEDITATION FOR A TYPE- A DRIVER
He tossed and turned all night long,
dreamed of mayhem, sweating in dread,
a bombastic ride of the Valkyrie
catapulted him right out of his bed,
anxiety-ridden, a quivering spasm,
a vibrating tuning fork never in sync,
he scowled and lumbered in a scornful demeanor,
a lion on the prowl in the Serengetti of Tanzania.
Random thoughts roamed helter-skelter,
a frazzled mind like his beloved Beemer
on low octane, knocking and pinging,
blue sparks crackling and popping,
static short circuiting necessary synapses.
Fretted about his bumbling boss
who owed the job to his brother-in-law,
worries old and new flitted about,
a humming bird caught in circuitous twaddle.
Anticipating calamities from morning till night
he ruminated like a bovine chewing it’s cud.
An irritable driver always in gear
clenched to the wheel could never find neutral,
blasting the horn at those in his way
till chest pains developed and made him ask questions.
He sought out a guru, a teacher of wisdom
who awakened him to the role of compassion.
He learned to let thoughts fly from the mind
like the flutter of birds flying over a boat.
Letting go of anger he was a puddle of tears,
visualizing the flow of the tides he discovered
the “still point”, the turning between in-breath
and out-breath, listening to the “thunder of white
silence,” mindfully discovering an ultimate
rapprochement with himself.
He smiled like a Buddha when he slowly
drove off in a Prius instead of a Beemer.
Milton P. Ehrlich