What Do You See When You Go Out In the Morning


Today was the day at the Department of Labor for those with last names starting with the letters F-L to get a flu vaccine, including the infamous H1N1.
I mostly don’t feel a need for a flu shot for myself. I’d rather rely on daily outdoor walks regardless of the season, a healthy diet, adequate sleep virtually every night, yoga asana, meditation, regular massage, and washing my hands frequently and generally keeping them away from my face.
But I’m going to visit my mother in a rehabilitation facility where she is recovering from a severely broken leg. If, for a few days of discomfort and a half hour out of my day, I could reduce the risk of being a carrier or being unable to visit, it made sense to go ahead.
Also weighing in favor of the vaccine, though insufficient reason alone, is that in order to yield the expansion of my horizons that is possible from a return trip to India, I will be enduring the stress on my immune system from the travel.
As I was finishing my lunch today, my server came over to see if I wanted dessert or something hot to drink. I declined, but she chatted with me a little. I had made a reservation for two, but ended up eating by myself, and she took the time to be friendly. “I didn’t think to bring my journal,” I said, “though I did have the Blackberry to blog.”
“I always have a couple of magazines with me, but at least you are near the kitchen and can enjoy watching the food come out,” she added.
“It’s my favorite spot. I always ask for this table,” I replied.
“Some diners don’t like it. One diner posted a review on ‘Yelp’ saying that the food was good, but complained that they always stuck him near the kitchen.”
“Not me. It is so much fun to look at all the possibilities and expand the feast with the eyes.”
As I was eating, I had felt a minor trepidation because I thought of myself as sitting at a plum table. The restaurant was crowded, and I knew that by ordering only a salad entree, the server was not getting the tip on a table for two (a table that I never would have gotten with a reservation for one).
I was sad my friend could not join me. We get together about once a month to catch up and to eat good food, and we always enjoy our lunches. After I was already sitting down at the table, I had gotten a message that she had gotten off the metro and was heading to the restaurant when her firm had called her back to the office to handle an emergency.
As I was already seated and had water poured, I decided to stay and eat. Two trains of thought while I was eating stayed at the forefront.
Though the food was lovely and I affirmatively like dining in solitude, it was not quite as tasty eating alone than sharing with someone who likes to share and discuss the food when that was what I had been expecting.
More important, though I was bummed, missing the opportunity to swap stories and enjoy the company of my friend, I was incredibly grateful that this was my big disappointment for the week. I am sure it was harder for my friend than for me. I was still getting a break and a nice meal. She was dealing with an emergency of some sort and also disappointed not to have our treat of the monthly lunch. I am sure she is, too, keenly aware that her disappointment and the emergency she was addressing were small compared to the suffering that so many millions of individuals face each day.
I left lunch with my appetite sated, my tastebuds replete, and my resolve firm both to savor everything more deeply and to try to live in a way that spreads more joy and alleviates suffering.
And I left a big tip to thank the server for being kind and sent proposed dates to my friend to reschedule.
Peace and light, E — Posted with WordPress for BlackBerry.
I used to note the first day of winter as a marker of the long, cold and dark season ahead. Now I mark the first day after the solstice as the an opening to the light. In only a few weeks, even though the weather will be wintry, the days will be noticeably longer. This time of year, I walk on the sunny side of street and choose the middle of the day to be outside, in contrast to summer, when I walk in the morning or late afternoon on the shady side of the street. When I went out at midday for a long walk, the light was almost blindingly bright. The blazing sun seemed that much more of a treasure for the cold blustering wind and the shortness of the day. That the light was so clear and vivid seemed an apt reminder that going through periods of cold and dark can clear us for newly illuminated paths if we are only open to the sources of illumination — inside and out.
On my way to work this morning, having left the house 20-25 minutes later than I would have preferred, I came upon a demonstration led by organized labor seeking a Secretary of Labor who honored good jobs. My timing, thanks no doubt to the mysteries of the goddess of sequencing, was perfect; just as I arrived Senator Sanders was speaking. The puzbot was posing for lots of photos.
I don’t think that invocations and prayers alone are sufficient, and I believe they can support the emotional wherewithal for right action for those who are doing both.
