VerbAsana

A Cherry of a Lesson

It's widely accepted that our spiritual development is propelled by simply being here, on this planet, with this body, reveling in all that life offers us. Often, it takes a near-death experience or some other cataclysmic occurrence to inspire one to open to life fully. Sometimes, it can come from a much more subtle reminder.

I was driving across country enjoying some exquisite cherries. After savoring a particularly luscious one, the next proved to be less than my expectations had hoped. I saw myself rush through the chewing and swallow it hastily so that I could get on to another "good" one. But, much to my surprise, as it slid down my throat, I felt as though I had just been cheated. Yes, it was slightly beyond its prime—a little mushy and less sweet and tangy than the last one, but it wasn't unpleasant—just different from the ideal that I was holding in my mind.

I then began to reflect: Does this same attitude infiltrate other aspects of my life? Do I deny myself the fullness of my experience because I think it should be something else? Do I numb my intake of life or fabricate an imaginary one when what's before me isn't to my liking? Assuming that I'm here to get everything that I can from life, how can I expect to learn my lessons if I don't hear what my teachers are saying? Not every song is my favorite, yet I eagerly enjoy the variety. Likewise, not all lessons are equally fun in the learning, but I still want to know what's what. So, my attitude has to implore, "Bring it on" or "Give it to me straight, Doc."

If I allow my expectations to impose themselves upon my perceptions, I find myself miles from my experience—much like times when I've arrived at a destination not remembering large portions of the journey, my mind having been occupied by random meanderings as I traveled. How, then, to remain in the moment, to allow myself to receive all that life offers me? How can I stay attentive to the array of possibilities, divine which option is the best, and still bask in the moment without succumbing to the impositions of negative or compulsive feelings and attitudes?

I see that if I habitually numb myself to what I don't like, then I'll be habitually numbed to everything. Each and every moment has the capacity to inspire awe when viewed in the full light of the now. I can either enjoy the feeling of being in the rain or I can cower from it as if it were a swarm of insects. I know that, in truth, my natural state is one of happiness and well being, and that the only thing that can take me out of that state is my own obsessing on perceived "wrongness." It's my choice, provided that I take the initiative to make one. So bring it on.

As I returned to my cherry snack, I found myself appreciating each morsel for its own uniqueness, as well as the specifics of tasting, chewing, and swallowing. As I translate this into other aspects of my life, I find much more satisfaction in simply looking, rather than looking for. In hearing what someone is saying, rather than thinking of what I want to say when it's my turn. In enjoying the weather, whatever it may be. In welcoming all of my emotions, without prejudice. And, in accepting myself, as I am, in the moment, rather than feeling inadequate because I see so much room for improvement.

It's amazing how much can be divined, in a single moment, by something as simple as one little cherry.

Thatcher Ross teaches meditation and is certified in both Kripalu yoga and Acu-yoga. His goal is to empower his students to maintain their own health and to explore their inherent connection to joy. You can find more information about his classes, unabridged versions of his articles, and reach him at yogabug.com or contact him by phone at (614) 885-3355.