Keep it Fresh
Keep it Fresh: 15 August 2022
One of my favorite TikTok people is a Buddhist monk living in Houston. And yes, a few months ago that sentence would have sounded completely ridiculous to me, too. The monk, Vuong Bach, resides at the Vietnamese Buddhist Center, and he sends a short video into the world each morning. He has a beautiful, beatific smile, and he often says ’take a deep breath in’, and then ‘let it all go’. He says to smile, to keep yourself fresh for your meditation. It really can change my outlook to stop a moment, be present, and take a breath. It helps to remember that this moment is the one that I have right now; each moment of life is my meditation.
I’ve been reminding myself to slow down and savor the lasts bits of summer. I feel like I was just getting the hang of summer and here it is the first day of school. Anyone else remember when summer used to include August? I intended to savor flavors and conversations and events, but I found I mostly savored moments: little scenes fully formed like snap shots.
I’ve savored small moments: laughing through long nights with summer friends; a Capela singing during a summer worship service; sipping coffee the week before school upended mornings. I don’t remember the physical feelings; I remember the emotional feelings. Breathe it in. Let it go.
On Thursday morning I went to Columbia to help set up an event, and then had a couple of hours before I needed to be back. I couldn’t find friends on such quick notice, but amused myself by revisiting all four places I’d lived during my 19 years there. I got lunch at Rosewood Market and sat on its wooden deck reminiscing. So many new foods and perspectives and conversations encountered there. So many versions of my self. Just for fun I tried on my 20s idealism and excitement about a new relationship; my 30s marriage and divorce and subsequent marriage; my ascending and descending career; the death of my mother and birth of my first child. The moments spilled like a stream through my mind, scenes all associated with this particular place. And now, in writing this, I’m remembering to savor ‘that’ moment as well—the being so present to the reminiscences.
It helped to breathe on Saturday night on the parking lot patio of a generic Mexican restaurant in Asheville. Our teenager’s awful planning skills upended Mark’s and my date night, which turned into settling for Corona and chips while waiting to pick up Jack from the trampoline place. Mark went to walk off his frustration. Instead of giving into my cynicism and exasperation, I looked online, found a Korean place nearby and ordered a couple of stone bowls to go. The parking lot was relatively quiet and the sun was warm on my shoulders. There was a gentle breeze and a decent beer in front of me. Given the hectic week I’d just finished, this little pause was beautiful. Plus, someone was preparing Korean food for us and where on earth is better to eat than on our Montreat porch?
This morning everyone got to the right school on time with new backpacks, supplies and lunch boxes. I was assigned the devotion for our morning staff meeting and it went off alright. Work is progressing on our renovation. But I was still antsy from getting back into intense logistics mode.
I went for a walk to clear my head and also to jump start my dormant exercise routine. I left my phone and took my dog because he seemed a worthier companion than a podcast. I needed a break from all the talking I’ve been doing and receiving. And Grady loves a walk! I always feel bad when he gets left at home. Some of that is his own fault for being a terrible leash companion. But, some of THAT is our fault for being inconsistent trainers. Today Grady got to come.
It’s really hot, and I’m out of shape, so we mostly walked in the shade with a few intervals of jogging in the sun. Grady was totally game, but we were both glad I opted not to do the extra loop. He tried to lap up a sticky-note-sized puddle on the road, so when we got to the little stream, I took off his leash and showed him how to get down the bank. My not-super-fond-of-water dog plunged into the water and lay on his stomach while lapping up the chest-high water. He looked so happy! And I was glad I hadn’t inadvertently given him heat stroke the day before the annual vet visit.
Standing in the sun waiting for him I recalled the feeling I often had with toddlers on the playground. Look how happy he is…this is really boring….what a beautiful tree…I need to return that email…oh look at the fish…is he ready yet? I took a breath in. I let it go. I smiled.
School has begun, summer schedule is over, but I’m still trying to train myself to be present. As I wrote in last month’s essay, I’m pretty low on resilience right now, and the world is certainly not getting any easier, any less polarized, any safer. Or is it?
I have come to think, as Howard Zinn explains so beautifully in this passage, that what I choose to emphasize will determine how I show up in the world. And how I show up can determine what happens in the world. I’m choosing hope, one small moment at a time. I’m choosing courage, one difficult encounter at a time. I’m choosing kindness, even toward myself.
What are you choosing?
Smile. Keep it fresh.
“To be hopeful in bad times is not just foolishly romantic. It is based on the fact that human history is a history not only of cruelty, but also of compassion, sacrifice, courage, kindness.
What we choose to emphasize in this complex history will determine our lives.
If we see only the worst, it destroys our capacity to do something. If we remember those times and places—and there are so many—where people have behaved magnificently, this gives us the energy to act, and at least the possibility of sending this spinning top of a world in a different direction.
And if we do act, in however small a way, we don’t have to wait for some grand utopian future. The future is an infinite succession of presents, and to live now as we think human beings should live, in defiance of all that is bad around us, is itself a marvelous victory.”
