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Henri & the Three Puddles
Henri the hurricane was downgraded to a tropical storm. He still bombarded
Brooklyn and connected areas with lots of rain. An example of this deluge was
evident in Prospect Park last week where I bicycle. Some concave paths were
covered with inches of water, interfering with easy passage. Runners could be
seen moving to the left or right for steady, dry ground.
I felt afraid as I approached the first puddle yet decided to wade through it.
The water licked at my left foot as the motion of my wheels kicked the liquid
upward. My brakes survived, and squeaked as I tested them.
The second puddle seemed less scary as I rode through it, at this point, an
experienced paddler. Easy-peasy. My brakes worked in the aftermath.
In the last phase of my ride, near the Band Shell, the third quagmire loomed.
In my thoughts, I hesitated. I had seconds to react. Experience replaced fear as
I decided to bike around this body of water, which resembled a murky lake
unwilling to be tamed. My wheels could get bogged down by the silt. Better to
take a different path. Because I was unafraid, my energy was free and
unencumbered — I could evaluate the situation clearly to negotiate what lay
ahead. I was strategic rather than fearful, able to clearly evaluate what was
needed.
Moments later, it occurred to me that, metaphorically, these three puddles
represent the spiritual challenges we experience as we make our way on the
path: At first glance, the puddles seemed similar. I, the bicyclist, developed a
way, a strategy to get through, to respond, to interact. The first and second
bodies of water enabled me to maneuver through without much difficulty
aside from the fear of riding through the initial one. I literally and figuratively
rode through my fear and tested my brakes. I sailed through my second
