Of Life Indeed

It’s a gift to find a transcendent being who shows you how to find the mystical in the ordinary and whose presence actually transforms a physical space into a calmer, more grounded reality. You find yourself breathing into the moment, racing thoughts slowing to the rhythms of conscious imagining.

Martin Buber’s concept of I and Thou, an authentic relationship that leads to an experience of God, is lived out in interacting with D, whose chosen last name means “of life”. It is in a particular mid-20^th century life that D forged a pioneer’s path, journeying from a “bag lady inspecting glued bottoms” at the local paper mill to a highly trained naval technician in an age that painted the female ideal as a well-heeled, post-war consumer of manufactured goods for the Good Life.

While others were shrieking at Elvis concerts, singing along to one of his 170 hits, D toiled quietly, untangling wires and code, acquiring electronics and computer savvy as a Navy recruit. The only intrepid woman among 401 graduates at a special Naval ceremony, D eventually left the service and tried on big city life in LA. Living in the City of Angels was anything but heavenly, and the solitary sojourner, who longed for the quiet trails of southwestern Washington, returned home.

Home is a tiny port and mill town where old-money mill owners mingle with a class of transplanted doctors, lawyers and engineering managers who enjoy a comfortable living, able to afford membership at the country club and the cultural amenities of two cities less than an hour's drive away.

“The best place to eat in Longview is Portland,” I heard a local foodie sputter.

Culinary wasteland notwithstanding, D’s life is rich. Her daily practice is balanced, thoughtful and joyous. Her bearing is peaceful and centered. Her scenic tour of careers led her to teaching computer technology at the local college. D finds herself teaching courses even now—seven years after her official retirement date. A perfect Jedi master for the frightened technophobe, D views teaching as a “daily lesson in humility,” acknowledging that some of her younger students probably know more about computers than she does, but feels called to stay for those who “don’t know what they don’t know and may never have been exposed because of poverty.”

At 76, D has taught a large number of the college’s faculty, office staff and town residents. I’ve only known her for three months, surreptitiously exchanging book titles and a few passing emails, but she has had a profound impact on me in a way that truly matters. I can only imagine that for those who spend more quality time with D, her sly wit and sprightly optimism burrow into her students’ very core, and that the days are just a bit brighter and their life visions expanded.

In sharing a simple meal of salad and bread with this formidable techie cum Buddhist, I am wrapped in a stillness that keeps the rest of the workaday hassles at bay for that one great hour.