I went to grab lunch at the Italian bakery/deli across the street from work today. It was a later lunch than usual because I had meetings and calls right through the traditional lunch hour, so I scooted out quick so I could get back and dive into more of my work. I notice myself being less present when I am hungry.
So, I headed out in the 88 degree sunshine, exiting the air conditioned building, being stung by the heat wave that engulfed my body. I scampered down the street in a speedy fashion, crossing the street in my heels and then anxiously awaiting the signal to turn at the crosswalk. I arrived at the bakery, grabbed my sandwich and lemonade and scampered back to the building. At the crosswalk, I observed a man with two women, one of the women was quite young, maybe in her late teens, and the other woman looked old enough to be her mom. Both of the women were blind and had walking canes and the man was teaching the young woman how to use hers for what looked like the first time.
I stopped dead in my tracks. I was overcome with both happiness and sadness. Joy and hatred. Hating the fact that this young woman wasn't able to experience the sense of sight. I was sad that crossing the street for her will forever be different from my experience. Happiness and joy for the man dedicating his life to serving these women at this moment in time.
You may be reading this and passing all kinds of judgment my way and honestly, I don't care. What I do care about is the fact that I move through my days completely detached from the depth of my human experience. I have so much to be grateful for. So, so, so much. It's quite incredible and it blows my mind in moments like the moment I had this afternoon as I scampered back from my lunch purchase.
What I see is that the world gives us the lessons we need in the exact moments we need them to show up for us. B.K.S. Iyengar, the father of yoga, said once, "Nothing can be forced. Receptivity is everything."