Fig Finale

I ate the rest of the figs. I bought more figs. Lots of them. I am not going to pine over the perfect fig, nor am I going to live my fig-eating life in search of the next perfect fig. I am going to enjoy each and every fig as the fig that it is.

FYI: I did get one very bad fig. You couldn't tell from the outside, but it was FUN-KY on the inside. So, as I have not let the perfect fig ruin my fig eating, neither will I let the evil fig.

No attachment. No aversion. Just eating fruit.

The Perfect Fig

Yesterday I was doing a quick "drive by" shop of the Trader Joe's across from my office. I was working a long shift and wanted to have some fruit and nuts for quick snacks I could grab between appointments, when I saw a large container of fresh figs. I love figs. Love them. Heart them. After quickly assessing their mold situation (fresh figs seem to mold before they leave the store), I snagged them with glee.

I didn't end up eating them until I got into the car to head home. I broke open the seal, reached in, and bit deeply into a fig. It was good; good enough for another one. This one was better. One by one I worked my way into the box, relishing each one, until I bit into a fig that exposed me to a depth and richness of flavor I had never met before. It was a fresh fit with all the dark, sweet funkiness of a dried fig. I was transported.

This transcendent experience put me in a quandry. My choice:

1. Stop eating figs (For now? Forever?) as no fig can compare to this perfect, ripe jewel.
2. Eat more figs hoping for more of the same or, be still my heart, one even better.
3. Eat more figs acknowledging with a sweet anguish that no fig will ever live up to this one.
   

What do you think I did? What would you do? What does this say about attachment and equanimity? If you try to log in and it gets hinky, email me here.

Not What You Were Expecting

Today's exercise for myself is to subvert expectations, watch my expectations be subverted, or notice the capacity for subverted expectations. The other day, I took my daughter to buy a white garment to dye in her batik class and I suggested a polo shirt. She thought that batiking a polo shirt was weird and I tried to explain to her that is was cool because it subverted expectations. She wasn't interested in hearing it at that point.

In a couple of weeks we are going to be taking my daughter to visit her Kansas City relatives and my father-in-law suggested we meet in Des Moines and find something fun to do there. Fun. In Des Moines. Now, I'm not a big cosmopolitan snob, but I've driven through Des Moines more times than I can count and we couldn't even find a good place for lunch there. Everyone else has seemed to have a lot more enthusiasm for this than I have.

Desperately, I turned to the internet only to discover that there are something like 5 or 6 historical homes to tour. You have to understand, we all have our own nerdy buttons (I think I have more than the average) and historical home tours is a big one for me. So now, I'm the one who's all worked up about the historic homes.

Also, the Des Moines Art Center is housed in a building designed by (NERD ALERT) Eliel Saarinen with additions by Richard Meier and I.M. Pei. Okay, I'm sold.

Having our expectations subverted is a wonderful exercise in recognizing:

• Our attachment to our ideas and investment in them
• How our preconceptions take us out of living in the present as we make decisions about how things will be – a recipe for having them disrupted either for the better or worse

So, today (and maybe all week) I will notice when I have expectations, when I can let go of them, and when they are subverted (as well as making an effort to gently subvert them in others).

I want to hear about your experience with your expectations being subverted (or subverting others). Hey guys! I'm dying for a conversation here!