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| credit: Richard and Jo |
I received a bit of bad news recently. The weight of it hollowed out my chest like a Halloween pumpkin.
Ultimately, there’s no getting around a definitive “no." It boldly approaches, sits at your feet and stares up at you, unblinking, like a scrungy alley cat. Then, when you try to slink away, it follows you down the street and trips you as it figure-eights between your feet.
To cheer me up my sister told me a story often told in Buddhist circles. It goes like this: a man is chased by tigers to the edge of a cliff. He sees a rope and starts to climb down only to realize there are tigers down below as well. In his despair he looks up and notices a mouse gnawing on the rope. As hope drains from him, he looks to his left and notices a ledge no wider than his hand. On the ledge grows a strawberry plant with one perfectly ripe strawberry. He reaches, picks the strawberry and savours it.
I ruminated on this story as the scrungy cat of disappointment followed me around the house. And as I ruminated, I looked out the window and saw a baby bunny nibbling a clover flower. So I sat down and watched the bunny. I stayed present to the bunny. I told my sister about this little moment of “nowness” and my attempt at bunny-watching detachment and she said, “Well, the point is to also stay open and present to the pain.” Ah, now there’s the rub: I’m not sure how I’m supposed to stay present to the bunny and to the scrungy alley cat at the same moment!
Maybe (my sister would want to say) eating the strawberry isn’t so much about distraction as pausing to take a deep breath before looking back down at the certain doom that awaits. Maybe it’s about not forsaking the nourishment even if it seems inopportune and pointless. Maybe pausing to register the beauty of creation in the present moment gives one the courage to pause and also tenderly hold the emotion of disappointment in one’s heart in the present moment -- protect the kernel of it and place a lovingly painted “no trespassing” sign at its gate. Maybe savoring the gift of beauty emboldens one to pay attention to the not-so-beautiful – to pay attention to the flea-ridden cat: learn its name, the shade of its amber eyes, the variegation of it fur. Maybe when attended to, its company might not be so repulsive. Maybe its companionship might come with a message.
