When I first started talking about this road trip tour with my friends, they all had ideas about books I needed to include. When one of them mentioned Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance, I dusted off my copy and vowed to actually read it this time. The lavendar-colored paperback was hiding in the back room with all the fantasy and sci-fi trilogies, who had been read, but lovingly placed aside for later rediscovery.

Part of the procrastination was the perception that this was one of those “life changing” books like something that Oprah would shove down people’s throats. I expected it to be thought provoking and touchy-feely, and filled with the illusion that the author had some deep wisdom to share with those in the world who were ready to hear it. I’m not opposed to a little eye opening, I just have to be in the mood for it.

But what I found when I read it was that this guy was so far from “together” that it wasn’t really about any wisdom he could share. Instead it was just a look inside his brain. He found his own personal zen in dissecting every thought, every combination of thoughts, every part in the machine of motorcycle and mind. Basically, he was embracing his OCD and sharing it with the world.

So I think about my own tendency to lose myself in compulsive activities like solitaire and Bejeweled, and wallpaper peeling. As I pick and scrape and pull at each tiny little remnant of paper on my bathroom walls, there is peace. I’m going to scrape the popcorn off the ceiling next. Om.

This entry was posted on Sunday, December 13th, 2009 at 2:24 pm and is filed under road tripping. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.