Recently I found myself standing in a parking lot on a warm, sunny afternoon. I had just left an orientation session for new teachers. The room had been cold, so I still wore my jacket, a lightweight brown Patagonia. I held my employee badge, just printed with a picture taken that morning, in my right hand.
Halfway across the circular parking lot, I stopped. Turning my face to the clear sky, I smiled. I could feel the smile starting in my stomach as a sort of swelling glow, a happy little ball of energy rising up into my face. It moved through my chest and throat and then slowly lifted the corners of my mouth. I closed my eyes and let the joyful wave roll through me. I’m going to be a teacher.
After a moment, I continued walking to the car. Almost without thinking, I began to clip my new badge onto my belt. I stopped myself, thinking, I don’t need to wear this; I’m going home from here. But some inner prompting, no doubt akin to the smile that had just presented itself, urged me to put on the badge anyway. So I did. I wore it with pride.
I got in the car and had another thought: “Let’s do something to celebrate!” an excited little voice said. But what? I considered several possibilities as I drove home. I didn’t have much time, so it would have to be something quick.
Cruising down Brainerd Road, I spotted Krispy Kreme. “Let’s get a doughnut!” the little voice said. I vacillated. A doughnut would be good, but I don’t eat much sugar these days. Before long, I passed Krispy Kreme. Right away, I felt the excited little kid in me slump down in disappointment. I wished I’d stopped.
Regret and guilt nagged me that evening. Why had I not been willing to treat myself? What harm would have been done by a single doughnut eaten in celebration of a new job? More importantly, what good was accomplished by being so rigid?
Thankfully, we are often given many opportunities to learn the lessons life is determined to teach us. As a friend of mine puts it: There will always be a next time. In this case, next time turned out to be the next morning.
When I got to work, I greeted a colleague who was on his way out the door. He had apparently forgotten something he had planned to bring to work that day. “I’ll be back in 15 minutes,” he said. “OK,” I said and forgot about it.
Not long after, I was sitting at my desk going through the previous day’s emails when my colleague walked in the office carrying two boxes of Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
“You want one of these?” he asked. I felt the impulse to say, “No thanks,” caught it, set it aside and instead said, “Yes, I would like one.” He opened the box and held it out across my desk. I scanned the assorted varieties, felt the impulse to reach for a regular glazed, caught it, set it aside and picked a cream-filled, chocolate glazed instead.
After my colleague left to continue spreading cheer with the rest of the staff, I got a napkin, turned away from the computer screen and bit into the soft chewy doughnut, anticipating the cream-filled bites at the center.
L.B. Blackwell has been practicing Eknath Easwaran’s passage meditation for more than 10 years. He lives in Chattanooga with his wife and two daughters. He blogs at mundaneway.blogspot.com.