Lesson Learned - 7/3/12

Today's is another life lesson. While on our trip out west, Steph and I spend several days driving down the Pacific Coast Highway from Seattle to San Francisco. Along the way we listened to a few podcasts in the car, and I was particularly struck by an episode of The Nerdist featuring an interview with Rainn Wilson. The whole interview was over an hour, and I could hardly do it justice by trying to summarize it here, but the part of the discussion that stuck with me was Rainn's emphasis on the need to live in the moment. Here's a link to the podcast: http://www.nerdist.com/2010/10/nerdist-podcast-39-rainn-wilson/. I know that I am personally guilty of trying to live in the future, or less often the past. I constantly find myself whistfully thinking about leaving a particular moment, looking forward to something in the future that will surely be better than right now, and will bring me fulfillment and happiness. Then later, when that thing I've been looking forward to finally arrives, I'm still looking forward, excited for some other thing that I'm again certain will bring me contentment. I almost never stop and realize the absurdity of my mindset, of my whole condition, the state of being perpetually on the edge of climax and never being able to stop and appreciate the value of now.

Rainn Wilson made an excellent example of this flaw by pointing it out in how many people eat. We anticipate a meal, then anticipate the specific food we will eat, then anticipate that first bite. Our excitement becomes more and more focused until it's down to a single moment that we know will bring the joy that's always just out of reach. But almost instantaneously, as soon as we reach that moment, our brain shifts. We start looking forward to dessert, or the next drink, or happen after the meal, or maybe something further in the future. Suddenly the food is gone from the plate, the course is over, our stomachs are full, but we have at best a foggy recollection of the meal, of the tastes, the conversation, the atmosphere of the whole experience. We seem unable to even take the time to enjoy each bite or to take in the flavors of the food, even when that food has been something we've looked forward to. Maybe this is an American trait, a flaw in our desire to always improve our lives that ultimately causes us to never be happy with what we have, or perhaps it's a greater human trait. Whatever the case, it's something I'd like to work on, and the food thing seems like a good place to start. Lately, as I eat, I try to take a few bites and really savor them, analyze the flavors and textures, and appreciate the complexity of the food, what it took to get to me, and how many things had to conspire to lead to a single moment in which I bite, chew, and swallow. Inevitably when I do this I also try to internalize the entirety of that moment, not just the food, and take pause to envelope myself in all the trappings of that specific instance in time. It makes me slow down, sometimes just for a few minutes, and it seems a very good way of reminding myself that I must live the time I am in right now.

As Rainn said "Enjoy your burrito, America."