Indra’s Eye

Tony Evans

The following is a column from the Idaho Mountain Express, written by Tony Evans. It’s a very personable tale complete with a synchronicity, and even two references to Indra – without any explanation, as if all readers of the Mountain Express know about Indra’s Net.

Reading such a column, as well as my correspondence with Jim Banholzer, leads me to suspect that my image of Idaho as the American West’s answer to Alabama might not be so accurate.

I also noticed in amazement that the on-line version of the paper said the temp in Sun Valley was 50 degrees on the morning of July 17, a mere 39 degrees cooler than South Florida at that moment.

Take it away, Tony. – Rob

***

I began this day by learning about the endangered Devil’s Hole pupfish, which lives in a 15-foot deep pool in the Nevada desert. The kids were still sleeping so I just grabbed a magazine, turned on the Internet and one thing led to the next until I was reading about the distinctive dorsal fins of the various species of pupfish when my coffee ran out. The kids needed rides to camp and I had to let go the frivolity of info-tainment and act like a grown-up. Grown-ups don’t take much interest in weird stuff or believe in magic. Grown-ups create structure and routine. If we don’t, the kids will shake their heads and roll their eyes at us like, “Get it together will you. You’re the grown-up!”

So I jump start the car with the neighbor’s car because I left the key on all night and drive the kids to camp. I follow them inside just to see what Creativity Camp looks like, but turn away when I get weird looks from kids like, “What are you, lost?” So I find a table at the Community Campus Internet Café to put some finishing touches on a story about Tibetan Prayer Wheels. It’s almost finished except for something I want to add about Bodhisatvas and how they stick around to work for the eventual enlightenment of “All Sentient Beings.” I want to point out that this, of course, includes caterpillars and amoebas, and might require a bit of patience, since being human is a prerequisite for attaining enlightenment. Then my computer battery goes dead.

I walk to the car with plans to drive to the nearest ink pen, where I will be able to jot down my thoughts before they evaporate. I turn the key and the battery is dead again. So I push the old Nissan in neutral to an empty quarter of the parking lot, raise the hood in order to appear distressed, take out the well-worn jumper cables and decide to wait. “Patience,” I think. Whole universes are created and destroyed within one blink of Indra’s eye. What do we mortals ever expect to achieve by getting in our little hurries? Roadside assistance is only a phone call away, but I know someone will come along. I’m not going to wake up my brother. Someone is coming soon. I look down at my flip-flops and notice a small white flag on the asphalt. A wired sprinkler flag used by the landscapers to mark sprinkler heads. I pick it up and start swinging it around playfully as if in surrender. As if I have nothing better to do on a Wednesday morning than to stand around in the high-school parking lot swinging a funny little flag. A blue truck makes the turn at the end of the parking lot and is headed in my direction. I wave and call to him when he passes. “How about a jump start?”

“Sure” he says. It all goes smoothly. Positive to positive. Negative to negative. No sparks. As I thank him and turn to go I look at the side of his truck and notice the same logo as on my little white flag. Clearwater Landscaping. “I think this is yours,” I say, handing it to him. Some things must only happen once in the blink of Indra’s eye.