Spoons of Growth
Oats for Saturday breakfasts,
sprinkled with blueberries, grapes, bananas, and cherries.
I sit on the couch, eyes closed, spoon dipping in the bowl,
ready to start my dance with uncertainty.
Here comes the first serving, as the spoon glides into my mouth.
I have no idea what it’s laden with:
a single blueberry on top of oats, or a cherry and a couple of grapes,
or plain oats with nary a topping.
I hope each spoon has a gob of fruits, something to paint the plainness of the oats,
but I don’t know until I start chewing,
and even then, as I’m eating, I don’t know for sure until the spoon’s empty.
I keep hoping there’ll be a blueberry at the end of each serving,
something sweet to wrap up the bite.
But before I know, the bite’s over and it’s time for the next one,
and the next, and soon, the bowl’s empty.
It takes weeks for me to come to peace with the uncertainty
of not knowing what’s in the spoon.
Each bite unveils the secret ingredients on its own schedule and destiny,
just like life.
I realize that in addition to savoring the lusciousness of the cherry,
I also need to relish the unexpected joy that fills my senses,
when my tastebuds run into that sweet red cherry.
Would I cherish that cherry more,
knowing that it came from a place of not knowing if it was going to be there?
There’s beauty in the act of accepting each spoonful –
whether it’s plain vanilla oats or a sumptuous fruity fiesta –
as it is, as it comes, as life unfolds.
There are no guarantees in breakfasts, of blueberries and cherries in every bite we take.
There are no guarantees in life of joy, peace, and fulfillment, in every breath we take.
So why not indulge in the simple act of hugging the unknown,
of welcoming it with curiosity, acceptance and gratitude,
instead of disappointment, frustration and anxiety?
Why not befriend the present spoonful, the present moment, as it is,
than to lose that moment amidst the desire for a sweeter one later?
