The Opulence of a Good Spill
It is funny how one event, such as spilling coffee first thing in the morning, can happen on a day in which we are feeling fully present, in our bodies, confident in the days mission and how we will contribute to this world. On those days, we have the capacity, the literal bandwidth, to look at the event as divine, as acceptable, as put there for us by a higher universal power.
Maybe I didn’t need my coffee today! Yeah, that’s spot on, I’m good today. An ethereal thank you sent out subliminally to the anti-coffee gods who decided this very thing for us first thing in the morning.
And then there are other mornings. As if Lemony Snicket decided to continue his classic chapter book saga A Series of Unfortunate Events, only starring you, as opposed to the three siblings who had previously reigned supreme as his protagonists.
On those mornings, coffee tumbles, expletives find resonance between the ears, the negative self-talk commences (if it hadn’t already). Suddenly everything becomes personal.
The alarm going off before you were ready to wake up—personal.
The empty toilet paper roll that wasn’t swapped out after last night’s final use that now needs to be changed—personal.
The pants that are seemingly fitting a little more snug than usual today—personal.
The now delayed morning, as a result of trying to find something more appealing than said pants—definitely personal.
And finally, the spilling of the coffee. A metaphor for all that is unholy after a travesty of a morning. And we are only 45 minutes in.
Yep, you guessed it—personal.
But what if it’s not?
What if these things are a series of isolated (I hesitate to even call them this but) events that are showing up for no reason at all other than to give ourselves a chance to practice a moment of grace.
We extend far more grace to others for far less grace-worthy instances throughout a single day. Yet returning that same grace to ourselves seems to be as trying and tribulating as hurdling the Great Wall of China.
How did we get here?
Who told us we need to be so hard on ourselves all the time?
To be totally candid, I had a phenomenal morning. I felt out of touch with my habits and the seemingly small things that set me up for success this week, but last night I made an effort to reconnect—and to give myself the same grace I give to so many others for far more grudge-worthy acts, for not staying fully attuned to my self-appointed commitments. I woke up to my 6am alarm this morning, snoozed it for ten minutes to give myself the preferred soft wake up, got up, brushed my teeth, did my box breathing, moved my body, showered, got dressed in an outfit in which I felt like a million bucks, grabbed my pre-packed lunch and was out the door.
I approached my bus stop, feeling in my element, feeling on purpose, ready for a full day of loving service to the mamas and babies of Singapore.
So here is the thing with the buses in Singapore: unlike my wake-ups, there is no soft start. There is no gentle hitting of the gas once they are looking to overcome inertia and get moving after an onslaught of passengers.
An unspoken battle between passenger and driver exists. Will the driver unleash the power of all 450 horses at once before riders have had a moment to find stability within the metal tube of transport, sending bodies lurching and bags flying? Or will he stall for an extra second or two, allowing for the safe arrival of bums in chairs, or grips on handrails, at the very least.
The race is on the moment your card taps in at the front of the bus. Within milliseconds, it is critical to have a game plan in mind—going for the firm grip on the hand rail or taking the riskier option, involving a smidgeon of sheer luck, to gun it for a seat at the risk of slipping or being slammed into something that may not receive you warmly.
I stepped on my 16 line, thinking I had an extra second. I went for the first available seat I saw, but it was not rapid enough. My slow and easy and peaceful and joyful fifty preceding minutes were met with an abrupt jolt into the very seats in which I was attempting to occupy.
I set down my packed lunch and additional bag with laptop, wallet, and other key workday items on the seat next to me, closest to the aisle. I love to sit by the window on the right side of the bus to have a direct view of the marvelous sunrise over the bay in the mornings. I put a firm hand on the bag my laptop was in, just in case, but left the plastic bag with my lunch in it unleashed.
A small bump with increased momentum and lunch goes flying. Into the aisle it goes. I hoped that nothing had opened or spilled. Crossed my fingers and toes, in fact. I picked up the bag, and not so consciously put it on my lap, on my new, cream colored, sustainably made, Singaporean-designed, pants in which I was feeling so in my element.
I already knew I’d done something I shouldn’t have, as odds were I wouldn’t like the results upon removal of aforementioned plastic bag that had just been all over the bus floor with potentially spilled goods seeping out from within.
Four purple splatters graced the very weaving of my lovely pants. Damnit, I thought.
But this is where I had a choice.
I could feel my insides becoming uneasy, as I obviously didn’t want to ruin something so new, so one of a kind (okay maybe like 10 of a kind). And of course, I didn’t want to look like a slob at my new job, showing up with stains.
This isolated thing so called “happening to me” is just an event. Something I am labeling as a “thing”, giving it roots and room to grow if I allow it to simply by identifying it, let alone identifying with it.
This is where I could seize an opportunity.
I had the option to let this random event impact the way my entire day would continue to go, or I could merely let it go. Toss this one up to chance, and fall back on the preparation I had completed this morning since the going off of my alarm (alarm number two, that is).
Literally, this is what I had been preparing for. I got so in my body, so at home within, that if something on the outside were to “happen”, my sense of resiliency, adaptability, and peace, could remain unphased, and I could proceed with my day, with my joy, with my purpose, and not have something so minute such as a fluke staining of new, pristine, hip hugging white pants alter the course of my day.
I took a moment. I paused.
It’s not personal.
When we give ourselves a moment to fill our own metaphorical cups, we feel a mental and emotional fortitude that may not have presented otherwise. We feel confident in self, we have clarity in our purpose, and we have investment in self in which the ROI is astronomical.
This is what I felt today.
I reminded myself that nothing that is happening here is personal.
I reminded myself that I am resilient.
I reminded myself that this was not going to set the course of the day, let alone alter my mindset.
I reminded myself that it is important to give grace to myself.
As I did this, I stared back out at the rising sun over the water of Marina Bay Sands, settling back into myself and gifting myself peace of mind.
Flash forward to two hours before lunch time.
Text from coworker asking if I want to go out for lunch. I laugh, as this is the one day I packed my lunch so diligently the night before, preparing for the long day ahead.
Sure, I respond.
We go to a wonderful vegetarian South Indian spot several blocks from work. A new favorite, I must say.
I was satiated from lunch in all ways—the nourishment, the company, the conversation.
I go back to work, proceed with my afternoon, enjoying my patients, my work, the moments.
I pack up to head home for the day, grabbing said leaking lunch from the day’s resting place as I head to the bus.
I climb back on my 16 line, making my way to a seat. Taking the conservative approach this evening after a lesson learned this morning. I wait for the bus to gently start moving, leveling out before I make my way to a seat.
I sit down, in serenity within and without, and take a moment of pause to reflect on a great day.
I look down at my pants at the four purple splatters that I chose to erase meaning from earlier that morning. As I’m looking and reflecting, something on the other pant leg catches my eye.
More purple splatters. Fresh ones.
I can’t help but laugh.
Oh the irony.
It’s not personal. It’s just this thing that happens sometimes.
I snap a photo, drafting a message to my coworker, with the caption “I’m never packing my lunch again”, and send it off with a smirk.
I don’t let this moment consume me. There’s no point.
I get home, head up the elevator to floor number nine, and put my key in the door, giving it a gentle push and turn to the left. I am home after what could’ve been a strenuous and grievous day, had I allowed it to evolve into that. I strip down, removing my ironically imbued, intentionally created new pants and place them in the washing machine with some not quite as stained additional items.
And we wait.
The washing machine alerts me that the cycle has reached completion, I curiously, yet cautiously, approach. I lightly tug on the door, a blind reach into the spinning tube, and I retrieve the pants.
Brining them into light, I give them a firm wave through the air, mentally preparing myself for what may or may not be a happy ending. I scan the garment hanging in my outreached arms from top to bottom, bottom to top.
Not a stain in sight.
I breathe deeply into this moment. Realizing that my entire day could’ve been deemed “bad” over nothing at all. Over literally nothing. Over an event that I did not anticipate, whose very evidence is totally cleansed from the day, literally and figuratively.
How often to we preemptively alter our mindset before we fully know an outcome? Before we can clearly see the big picture? Before we can fully understand the grand scheme of why things are playing out in the very manner in which they happen to be unfolding?
I know that I am guilty of this more often than not. Yet this is the practice. This is the moment for growth. This is the moment to choose different. This is the moment for us to do ourselves a favor and let go of the deep hold we have on labeling things as good, bad, personal, or otherwise.
This is where we have an opportunity to fall to the level of our preparation, stare back out that bus window at the beautiful rising sun over the glistening water, and continue the day as if nothing at all happened that could perturb the inner peace that has been created, cultivated, and practiced.
