She never noticed him.
This morning Penn stepped from the water and approached, his long thin
body tanned ivory brown, his eyes blue-green, clear as a cat's. Things
came easy to Penn. Arthur exhaled the past and inhaled it again. Not
that way, he told himself. No struggle. Let it float away. He
straightened and followed his breathing. Penn disappeared as casually
as he had twenty years ago.
Arthur put his cheek against the palm tree. The bark was like cloth,
raspy and flexible, wrapped around and around the heart of the tree.
Someday, years of balmy weather would be violently interrupted. This
tree, which grew in sand, would have to bend horizontal or be uprooted.
Arthur exhaled the satisfaction that attended this insight. No
attachment.
When the blocks sounded again, he stood and walked with the others
around the zendo, careful not to look at Martin for approval. He wasn't
sure why Martin was hard on him. Martin was enlightened, but wisdom
hadn't erased narrow lines in his face, resentful lines. Arthur was
respected in the scientific community, well paid. Martin had been an
insurance adjuster or something before he found his vocation. He had
shaved his head, but the cheap haircut remained.
The blocks signalled and sitting resumed, the group settling into a
shared breathing. A quiet euphoria rose and faded, replaced by an edgy
pre-verbal clarity. Kwok! Over. Arthur rejoined the world of choice and
demand.
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