An oppressive heat wave has settled on the eastern part of the United States. Not just hot, but humid ... damn near viscous. Like a profound cold, there is a quiet, mortal threat that comes with the heat ... or perhaps that is just an indicator of my age.
In Zen, there is a saying: "When it's hot, sweat. When it's cold, shiver." And at a time when the muscles and mind were stronger, this has a kind of courage-in-the-face-of-adversity feel to it.
But the heat does not respond to braggadocio of youth and can-do capacities. Zen is for sissies waving the flags of bushido. But heat ... heat is serene and without endeavor. It does not kill on purpose. It does not encourage life on purpose. To call it implacable is just a polysyllabic ego trip ... another one, full of meaning and importance and ... me.
Meaning ... what is it like when things mean neither something nor nothing? Since I am a sissy, I do pray that the air conditioning keeps working, that there is no power outage, that I will neither sweat nor die.
But the heat?
Drip, drip, drip....