
Perspective is everything, and the frame that we choose is essential to our happiness and well-being.
Lessons seem to be dropping down in every corner of my life.
An adventure for sure!
The other day, I was in the middle of my ritual: hot tub, swim, steam, and sit-up regime.
Yes, in that order.
ALWAYS.
Routine is heaven.
Unquestioned certainty.
In the midst of great uncertainty, our routines ground us, re-connect us with life, breath, the moment, and joy!
I was near the end of my routine in the steam, and a long gangly man walks in and clears a patch on the steamy window. Enough for us all to peer out of. A large frying-pan-sized circle. He starts in. “I’m concerned. There is an old woman asleep on the hard bench over there. I am worried about her.” I ask, have you told anyone about her? Yes. The front dest knows. I peer out of the rapidly-clouding-over hole and see her from a distance. No one is tending to her. After hearing his concern, and the dire sound in his voice, I decide to go and check on her, to see how she is doing on that hard bench.
Before I begin the 50 yard walk over to her, I sense that there is a lesson looming.
I pay attention.
Notice my thoughts.
As I approach the sleeping woman, my first thoughts are of concern, that something is not right. People in the western world don’t sleep on hard surfaces— unless something is WRONG, I think to myself. As I get closer to her, my anxiety dissipates; she seems ok. When I am one foot away, close enough to see her breathe, breathe deeply, and comfortably. She is fine— more that fine. Comfortable. At ease. PEACEful. She is sound asleep. I decide that there is nothing wrong with her, nor the situation, only with my perception of it from afar.
My interpretation was influenced by the tone of voice and the words spoken by the alarmed man in the steam room, and by my pre-conceived image of what and where and how one should rest and find peace. I allowed others to sway my perception, truth, and clarity. From far away, my mind could wander into all the hallways of worry, and concern. From up close, all was perfect and as it should be. I jump— yes, jump— into the hot tub, and five minutes later, she wakes up: happy, at peace, rested. We joke about the misplaced concern for her “condition.” I pause with my hand on my heart— grateful for the lesson imprinted on my being.
The things we see from a distance can look scary, problematic, and alarming. The closer we get, we see how perfect everything is. How absolutely ok others are. And us. Everyone is safe. Ok. Had I reacted according to the first alarm bells in my head, I would have startled the sleeping woman, taken her out of deep rest. May we trust enough in the things we cannot quite see in crystal clarity to respond only if and when necessary, and in the appropriate way.
I have thought about this lovely peaceful woman at least once a day for the last 20 days. I plan on retaining this lesson deep in my sub-conscious for future seemingly scary or unusual situations.
Perhaps you’ve found yourself in similar situations.