I have heard many, many, many people discuss how it feels to be enlightened. I am not sure I ever listened all the way through any program to the bitter end. If I had, would I be writing this!

So this morning I got up, expecting the painter to come and resume work on the deck. I left the drapes closed so I wouldn’t have to get dressed at the crack of dawn. Sure enough, I looked out after breakfast and saw that his car was parked in front of the house. I noted that it was not the vehicle he had been driving on Friday, when he was last here. When he first began work, he was driving his white car and it died. So he bought a red truck and it died. The third time he came, which is today, he was driving another white car. But he left after an hour or so.

In the meantime I managed to haul a heavy pot that been leaking out to the garage. Since it didn’t have a crack in it, I decided to give it another chance. The plant in it is over 30 years old and the soil in it has grown rich and black. I snapped off some of the shoots and repotted it. Then there was a lot of sweeping and vacuuming. Pots and plants are quite messy, just as recounts of enlightenment are.

I called the painter on his cell, wondering when he would return. There is rain in the forecast. He said he was at a lumber company ordering wood for the job. “You noticed I was driving a new car,” he said. “Right,” I replied.

“When I took my dad’s car back, he said he had persuaded one of his neighbors to sell me one of his old cars. That’s the white one I had this morning. After I finish here, I have to go and get the title on the car transferred.”

I think I said, “God bless you.” I know I asked him to call and let me know when the delivery was scheduled and when he would be back to resume work on the deck. At the rate the job is going, the answer might be ‘Six cars and one year later.’” Oy and vey.

I know that you probably quit reading this note paragraphs ago. Now you know why I have never listened all the way through anyone’s interview on how they got enlightened. Boring! Just a bunch of words. Enlightenment is not about the words; it’s about the music. And that is why I never listen to enlightened people yak. If you still want to know what it feels like to be enlightened, hum a few bars and maybe I can play it for you. In the meantime, don’t go out on my deck. You might fall through the cracks. Just like Buddha did when he was sitting under the Bo tree and got conked by an acorn. I believe his last words were “Ow, ow!” But there was no one there to record him or even offer him an analgesic. Poor baby!

Consider this note a simple hand turkey of enlightenment. No need to thank me. Once you “get it,” pass it on. Gobble, gobble, gobble. Or was that “babble, babble, babble”?

Vicki Woodyard