This week’s post is written by Patti Holland, one of the Certified MBSR teachers at the Center for Mindfulness.
As the ice cream melts…
It was one of those perfect summer days – warm, a gentle breeze, the sky a soft light blue. And I had just discovered Blueberry Cheesecake ice cream! It was incredible, prize worthy even - a perfect blend of favorite flavors, and gorgeous to look at – deep rich blueberries, shiny and slightly blending into a soft off-white scoop of vanilla cream. My first lick of the ice cream cone was deeply enjoyable, enough so that I can almost taste it again as I write– a hint of vanilla, sweet blueberries, creamy texture and cool to the tongue. I savored a 2nd lick, and then a 3rd.
And then, a thought arose, followed by another and another. “This is so good I want it to last”. Almost immediately, it was more than just a thought. Emotional valence surged up, the feeling of desire. Of wanting something that, actually, I already had. And then, as fast as lightning, another thought, “I’ll never find this flavor again”.
Next thing I knew, a distinct feeling of lack had crept in, “Oh no, there’s not much left. Maybe I should get some more”. With each thought, each subtle surge of emotion, I began to lick faster, harder. Anxiety began to take hold.
I was also no longer tasting the ice cream. In fact, I was no longer aware that I was even eating ice cream, until my lips hit the cone. What? What just happened to all of my ice cream?
It would have been so easy to just walk up to the ice cream counter and buy another cone, but I chose not to do this. Instead, I paused and reflected on the situation for a few moments.
How easily, and how quickly, this can happen. An enjoyable moment is cut short by an ever so subtle recognition of an approaching ending. With this comes a sudden and unexpected reaction. It’s stunning to me sometimes, that a seemingly minor event like coming to the end of an ice cream cone can drop me into the larger realization that nothing, nothing lasts forever. Everything has a beginning, a middle and an end. It is here where I often find myself teetering on the edge of practice. Can I savor what this moment has to offer, while knowing that sooner or later it will end? Can I stay open and present to it all, every last lick?
I walked away from the ice cream counter, smiling, still faintly tasting the sweetness of blueberries and vanilla.