Early this morning I dropped a just-poured cup of coffee (half coffee, half milk) on the floor beside the washer and drier. What a lousy feeling.
I got paper towels and began wiping it up, but much of it was under the drier and some under the washer. Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, what a mess, what a bother. Shifting washers and driers makes one late for work. Not getting to milky messes soon makes worse messes.
What is the combination of feelings and thoughts we have at times like these?
Whatever they are, mindfulness suggests that we don't avoid them and we don't identify with them.
It was hard for me not to identify with one loathed consequence or another: be late and be behind at work or leave that sticky mess to dry under the appliances. No way to win.
You might snicker to read this, but moments like these can be deeply spiritual, can in a funny kind of way take us into the Cloud of Unknowing, the One Hand Clapping, the To Have Your Life You Must Lose It.
However, just picturing the Pushmi-Pullyu of Dr. Doolittle is probably a better fit for spilled coffee!
As we experience binds like these, to see one bit of ourself pushing and the other pulling--and to laugh at the glory and bumble of being alive really can be wonderful.
It's a laughter not immune to tears, however. Somewhere a parent or sibling or teacher helped solidify those binds in a tender psyche, and along that path rules became laws of great consequence. To break them is to be a baaaaaad boy or girl. Taking a moment to hold these childhood experiences of ourselves and others empathetically is powerful medicine.
The sequence goes something like this:
Mad.
Hurt.
Frustrated.
Thoughtful.
Ironic.
Funny.
Poignant.
Empathetic.
Less bound.
More free.
Thank you, thank you, thank you.
