I’ve had a hard time sleeping through overnight rain for quite a few years now. I first remember it in my third winter at Tassajara, when I would wake up well before the wake-up bell. A few times, knowing I would not go back to sleep, I got up and helped the jikido, whose job in those days was to get up before everyone else, and light the kerosene lamps along the paths up and down Tassajara. It was a hard job at the best of times, but when it was wet it could be almost impossible to light the lanterns, unless the firewatch the night before had gathered them all indoors, when they blew them out after people had gone to bed. And even then, with lamps lit in the dry, they had to be distributed to their posts in the dark. The jikidos were always grateful for help.

On Friday morning, about an hour before my usual early waking time, we had a heavy rain shower passing through, so I woke up, and once awake, I just got up and made myself coffee. It left me feeling a little tired – mainly just sore around the eyes – for the talk I was due to give to the sangha at Hebden Bridge as a group of them start a year of studying the precepts, but of course the energy of the occasion saw me through. It seemed to be well received; you can find it on the audio page if you would like to listen to it.

Thankfully I didn’t have much else on my schedule. After my other main commitment in the afternoon, I took a ride down to Ocean Beach, and even with winter rain gear on, got very cold and damp in the faint drizzle. When I got home, I could not bring myself to put on my robes and go down the street to sit in the zendo, where the windows are understandably kept open. I turned the heating on and put on my cosiest clothes.

I have a roam scheduled for this afternoon, to see the magnolias, which are already out, although one of my forecasts shows light rain through the afternoon. Hopefully it will be worth the effort.

Towards the end of last week I started feeling really run down, to the extent that I went out and bought some Covid tests (while I await my next free set to come in the mail) just to make sure I wasn’t going to infect anyone on Saturday’s roam. I didn’t have any symptoms beyond tiredness, and the test was negative, so I went ahead, and, after a couple of days more rest, I felt fine again. I have heard from several friends who either managed to travel during the rather apocalyptic weather across the US, or who had to postpone their trips, that they were also feeling very low energy if not symptomatic of anything. Since I have a number of days off, I am reminding myself to take it easy, and the wet forecast is obviously helping with that. In any case, here is an old passage from the Ino’s Blog that might help if you are feeling the same way:

I remember at Tassajara, when I was on the  kitchen crew, I found myself really struggling with tiredness, from the combination of the tough schedule and the physical activity. I talked with Reb about it, and he asked what I was doing during break times. When it’s time to rest, he recommended, you should rest. I have tried to abide by this guideline ever since; the ino’s schedule can be pretty strenuous, and if I rest when I can, it makes it easier to have the energy to get through the remainder of it. This is one thing I always notice when I am feeling ill – I appreciate, from the lack of it, how much energy it takes to get through a normal day. I also find something comforting in feeling the effort my body is making to fight off the virus: I enjoy a good sweat, especially when it ends up breaking the fever. So can we appreciate being sick? Can we say, when it’s time to be sick, just be sick? Perhaps, if we can take it as a message from our bodies to slow down and take care of ourselves, pause from our usual activities – if we are able to do so – and also be thankful for people’s offers of medicine and help: I received a thermos full of delicious fresh ginger tea with lemon and honey, which Blanche brews up for people who are suffering, and which, along with the good wishes, was a great tonic.