Last Wednesday, I awoke to a 6 a.m. phone call from my son who, with his GPS, took an unusual route to his school where he teaches high school math. We catch up on chats this way, in this early morning ritual, when we both have time.Afterwards, I busied myself with myriad tasks to straighten up and send emails, wash clothes… Off I went into the world – to my new Hatha yoga class. Let me share a series of small disappointments. This is a favorite part of my morning. Parents were escorting their children to school. The sky was bright, suggesting a spring day. One five-year-old boy marched, eyes closed, into the blinding sun like a playful zombie. A six-year-old girl, in shimmering-gold pants, moved thoughtfully in her sneakers. I arrived ten minutes early and was told there were no tickets available: twenty-two is the maximum. Mildly let down, I walked upstairs, deciding to workout in the old-fashioned way: stair master, bicycle, followed by pumping iron on the various machines. There was a distinct difference in my ‘habitual behavioral response,’ (a term used by a favorite author of mine, David Hawkins M.D.,Ph.D.) in being turned away. I felt no anger. By way of explanation, let me rewind the reel and tell you about the events leading up to then. In my downtown New York office on Tuesday I expected a 9-5 delivery from Staples, to be delivered by UPS. It did not arrive. Overall, I had a productive day seeing clients and editing some writings. Pleased with my efforts, I visited a local department store at 8:30 to return an item and purchase another. The cashier line was long and inefficient. On my subway ride home there were 15-minute delays on both the A/C and the F trains, adding 30 minutes of platform ennui. I could’ve become grumpy, but kept my stride. Needing to feel taken care of and wanting some good food, I set out for Istanbul, a local restaurant (Seventh Avenue near Seventh Street) and placed my order with the manager. There I sat, busy on my i-phone and ‘New York Times’ when I realized it must have been at least one-half hour into the experience – no food in sight except for my bread and olive oil. I calmly and assertively grabbed the attention of the waiter and explained that I was very hungry. (The physiological feeling of hunger usually produces an irritable me.) Could they please bring me my chow. They profusely apologized, saying that my paperwork had been lost in the kitchen amidst a flurry of activity – lots of take-out. They sent over a complimentary appetizer, but I reminded them that I really needed my victuals to arrive. As Bill Shakespeare whispered, “All’s well that ends well.” I would add, with a dash of pepper, I mean patience…I devoured my delicious meal. Oh! I’m seeing slow but steady progress with my patience in the face of frustration, although there is always more work to be done here… A funny cartoon comes to mind in a city (New York) and nation (United States) where faster is often considered better (of course, in some instances it is): The cartoon of the tortoise and hare, with my favorite carrot-eating mammal, Bugs Bunny who teases the sweet turtle for being so-o slow. Hare’s arrogance interferes, and the slow-moving reptile wins the race. “De, de, de, de, de,…that’s all folks.” (Thanks to Nicolby, an actor and one of my hair stylists at Le Petit Chandelier, on Third Avenue Brooklyn, for remembering Porky Pig’s send-off; and Joanne, the owner, for recalling it was ‘Looney Tunes’ who broadcast this show.(See www.le-petit-chandelier-salon.com) I want to emphasize that patience is a gentle characteristic…there are many activities where slow and steady are preferred. Let’s respect this wisdom…
Speak to you on April 28th.
Slow be it…
Linda
#bugsbunny #city #nation #carrot #timing #calmness #takingcare #disappointment
