J 'Bell - The Mindfulness Bell

Awakened by an Accident
by Robert Reed
Iam not always mindful while driving the car, but on this
particular morning when I cheated death,the radio wasoff
and I was consciously following my breath, alerttothe conditions
of the road.
As I headed to work in rush hour traffic at 60 miles per hour,
a largewhite car abruptly changed lanes and crashed into me.
Nowarning and thankfully notime to panic.My car spun out
of control and careened across two lanes of traffic (Relax, I said
to myself). I was then perpendicular to oncomingtraffic in the
far left lane (the fastest one) and yards away from crashing
headlong into a cement wall when I was hit again broadside
directly at the driver's door. My Toyota flipped overand then
there was complete silence. Iwondered if therewere goingto
be more crashes or if the amusement ride was over.
A cool, eeriepainonthe topofmy headmademefeel as if
I had just been scalped. I was afraid to touch. I remember seeing
the shattered glass of the window scattered on the highway. I
spit glass, wondered about the extent of my injuries, and
watched my legs shake uncontrollably from cold and fright. I
tiltedmy head backon the headrest, closedmyeyes, followed
my breathing, and waited for the ambulance to arrive.
That my seat belt saved my life was undisputed. What
caused unanimous amazement to the State Troopers, ambulance
drivers, and the Emergency Room doctor was that I
escaped relatively unharmed. Six stitches for a laceration to the
skull, a too-small-to-complain-about scrape on theleft shoulder,
and not one bruise. The car, however, was totalled.
Incredible luck, the gods' smiling graces, and maybe my
relaxed body also helped prevent injuries. I've heard that
drunks fare better than sober peoplein accidents due to thefact
theydo not tense up. Perhapsmy meditation that morning just
minutes before kissing my wife good-bye helped save me.
Impermanence is one of the articles of faith in Buddhism.
That all things change and die is easy to accept philosophically,
but when, at mid-life, you are thrown face-to-face with your
own imminent death, it finally dawns on you—I too am
impermanent! We delude ourselves by thinking that death
occurs to others but for ourselves some time in the distant
future. We want toforget thatdeathcan come tous unexpectedly—even
today!
Lifeis preciousand precarious. Accidents wake you to this.
I overheard my wife tell friends the next day that, while she
gave me a massage, she whispered a prayer of thanks as she
touched each bone, muscle, and limb—she was so grateful I
was all in one piece and alive.
For a week afterwards, we wereespecially close. Now the
strain of everyday living threatens to dull our senses once
again. Our inability to appreciate imminent impermanence is
the cause of much suffering. If life is short, then the day-to-day
details, such as how we talk to each other, matter the most.
Moments of clarity and appreciation come through our practice.
Reserving a time for sitting meditation every day helps
keep us from taking our own and each other's livesfor granted
and helps sustain us.
A second grade studentof mine sent a get-well card, "Don't
do that again!" That is sound advice. Yet, if I were able to
practice the way of awareness more often and thus be more
alive, I would like to think that when death doescatch up with
me, it will not be altogether unwelcome.
Iescaped this mishap. Many are not so lucky. One of my
closest friends died in a sailing accident 20 years ago. F ve now
lived twice as many years as he did. Miraculously, I was
granted just a little more time on this earth. It is my hope that
I will live less on automatic pilot, more attuned to the bare
essentials, more loving and accepting, less critical and judgmental.
Fortunately, majorlife traumas do not happen to us nor
our loved ones every day. But when they do, I think we grow
stronger if we listen deeply to what they have to say.
Life is a gift—not just for newborn babies and people who
"pull through"—but for everyone. Continuously, we are given
life anew. Our challenge is to awaken to and celebrate the
everyday wonders.
Robert Reed teaches English as a Second Language to Hmong
students in Minneapolis, Minnesota, and practices at Minnesota
Zen Meditation Center.
A Time for Healing
by Paul Dewey
As a full-time practicing alcoholic, I put hundreds of
thousands of highway miles behind me with little or no
regard for who or what wasin front of me. Despite four drunk
driving arrests, I continued to endanger every living creature
on or adjacent to the roadway.
Twenty years of drunk driving ended abruptly on May 21,
1988 when I crashed into a compact car, taking one life and
nearly ending three others. I offer no excuses—I am 100%
responsible and 100% remorseful. At that time, I made a
solemn vow that I would never again intentionally or recklessly
be the causeof another person's pain, anguish, or death.
Since then, I have tried to become more compassionate each
day. I havenotused intoxicants in any form since the tragedy,
and intoxicants will not be part of my future. It takes all my
focus and energy just to try and stay on the path.
Whatever being in prison may deprive me of, it gives me
one thing that is very rareand difficult for most people to come
byinthe modern world: time. I have time for introspection—
for looking deeply— to searchout the many causes that helped
make me who I am. I have time to read, and time to develop
compassion and mindfulness as best as I can.
Paul Dewey is an inmate in lone, California, who joins us in
mindfulness practice with the help of books by Thdy.