Senior Year—March

Toward the end of March, Memphis turns green and the brightly colored azaleas and dogwood trees bloom. The dogwoods have small white flowers surrounded with four large leaves, often accented by a small brown spot at the edge. I know these flowers rather well because I had very few classes in the spring and I spent several hours—every day the sun was out—lying on a blanket in the sunshine or the shade reading. Looking back on it now, I realize how lucky I was to be able to afford that luxury.

As I have mentioned, I was reading the works of Daisetsu Suzuki, the first major writer to introduce Zen Buddhism to the English-speaking world. Between chapters, I could stare at the blossoms, watch the clouds float across the sky, and attempt to determine what bird was currently singing away in a tree nearby.

The weekday afternoon intramural sports continued, as did the weekend dances in the downtown hotels. Somehow or other my graduation project in psychology passed final judgment. All that was left to complete was a report on Zen for my independent study.

I can’t recall the reason, but one late afternoon I went downtown and sat high up the stone bank of the Mississippi River. There was no one around, with the exception of a curious cat, and I simply watched the sun as it set across the river in Arkansas. It would be false to say that I was doing Zen meditation there, but it was something similar: reflecting on life, wondering about the future, and helping the sun go down.

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