Absolutely Worth It

                                                                   Photo by Joe Longo

I woke up grumpy. A little frantic. A little ungrounded. A lot ungrateful.

I took my grumpy self to Highpointe Café, and berated myself along the way for: running out of my way to buy a coffee when I could save the money, the time and the dehydration.  I took my perfectly poured cup, sans one sip into the car, and grumbled about my little naggings of lack, slipped the unstable cup almost into the cupholder and viola: it exploded all over my car.

I laughed.

Apparently someone wanted to teach me a lesson about ingratitude. Call it the Universe, Murphy’s Law, Self, I got what I asked for: nothing.

The same time that I was coffeeless and chagrined, I received a text from a friend who was having a kick ass morning. Everything was unexpectedly going right for them.

I stopped.

Apparently someone wanted to show me what else could be happening: everything.

I sat on the porch, awaiting my clients, and realizing what a little brat I was being to the Universe. Here I am, doing what I love, with people I adore, and I was complaining and worrying over things that hadn’t happened yet. Translation: things that may never happen. I was so busy complaining that I had to start dropping things I did want to make room for all my grumblings. Sure it was just a cup of coffee, but the Universe fills the Space with what you are holding Space for. I was pouting, arms crossed, no room to receive, so I lost a little something.

I ended my day, after full sessions with wonderful clients, sitting at a restaurant raucously laughing with a dear friend over the humilities of life. I strolled down the very same street I had clomped down earlier that morning a much happier person.

I reflected on my morning spill, my rant of worries: How to get plan a, b, and z done perfectly. How I would ever finish my curriculum, juggle travel, open my heart, and get my teeth cleaned. How I would overcome obstacles that I was creating for myself, begrudging that I was not doing or being enough, guilting myself for being too indulgent, too reckless, too this, too that.

Then, I shut my mind up. I don’t know what tomorrow will bring, but right now, as I slipped down Germantown Avenue, I was good. The night was good. Life was good.

That coffee was priceless. It turned my whole day around.  $3.50 and a whole lot of scrubbing of white vinegar eradicated my sour residue. What a small price to pay.

Watch what you eat

I had a horrible salad today. It was served in guilt.

I have never felt so sick, or was able to feel the negativity of emotions so quickly. It gave me some food for thought.

What am I serving myself? How do I ingest my day? What do I salt and pepper my experiences with? Gratitude or Despair?

When I see something I don't like, do I chew and chew and chew it, over and over and over and over to gestate it into my very cells, or do I say, "Oh, thanks I'm full," and bypass the indigestible meal. 

Do I stoke my personal fire of self confidence, so I may digest anything around me quickly, letting it dissipate and disappear into the flames? [In Ayurveda, this is Agni, the digestive fire. It is responsible for everything we ingest: emotional, spiritual and physical.] Am I eating from all the food groups that will nourish my being or am I snacking on treats that will leave me fatigued and flat? Am I cooking my own meals? Do I see that I am the chef and I have the right to choose my own ingredients? Do I trust my culinary skills?

The next time you walk up to someone else's buffet, consult your palate before consuming.

May this new moon awaken the inner flame of you.