Staying over our skis

There’s snow in the mountains and I’m dreaming of a bluebird day. I imagine gliding over sugar-sweet fluffy stuff. My form is perfect. My legs are strong. I’m feeling confident and free.

But down here in Denver, the trees are yellow, not white. I’m sorting through mismatched socks. I really should go to the gym.

Finding joy in the present is hard.

The Stoics say we already have everything we need. Right here, right now. And the Buddha teaches that craving and desire are the cause of suffering.

So, here’s today’s dilemma: How can we hope for better days without ruining the days we have?

There has to be a way!

Back in 2012, President Obama publicly chided his Veep Joe Biden for “getting a little bit over his skis.” Biden had commented publicly on the administration’s position on gay marriage. The metaphor made sense—sort of.

Picking up speed was above Joe’s pay grade. But public sentiment—like physics, like gravity—couldn’t be ignored. So Joe—being Joe—took a flier.

And real skiers chuckled. Because to make skillful turns, we have to get out over our skis. We have to be brave enough to point our sticks downhill and let nature do its thing.

Which takes us back to the question at hand.

How can we believe in possibility, knowing that impermanence prevails? How can we be balanced and content today, and also dream of a better tomorrow. For the planet and for ourselves.

Roshi Joan Halifax, a Buddhist teacher and pioneer in end-of-life care, coined the phrase wise hope.

In connection with a virtual retreat on the subject, she wrote: It’s when we discern courageously, and at the same time realize we don’t know what will happen, that wise hope comes alive…Wise hope is not seeing things unrealistically but rather seeing things as they are, including the truth of impermanence…as well as the truth of suffering—both its existence and the possibility of its transformation, for better or for worse.

Is this the answer we’re looking for? Wise hope?

Is that how we might both stay over our skis and let something new and ambitious—unknown and risky—pull us along?

I say let’s buckle up and give it a go.

One ski day at a time.