What We Can Afford

In a past life, I bartended.  I bartended in a neighborhood bar, and most of my customers were regulars.  If  anyone, regular or just passing through, apologized for not having the cash for a tip, a man named Dave who came in daily - and who happened to be about six foot one hundred inches tall and at least 300 pounds - would boom out, "I figure if I can't afford to tip, I can't afford to drink."

Yesterday, as I was showering, I really took the time to massage my head.  I had applied conditioner to my hair when I flashed back to the wonderful scalp and neck massage I had received before my last haircut.  The memory of that blissful feeling inspired me to take some time nurtuturing myself.  I don't always do that.

I have now realized the immense life wisdom of Dave's philosophy.  If I can't afford the time and energy to massage my scalp, I can't afford the time and energy to shower.

This could apply to everything.  It would slow us down so that we might only do a few things in a day - but they would be done well.

If I can't afford the time to create a healthy meal, I don't have the time to eat.  What a great weight-loss plan for Americans!  If I can't afford the time and energy to research the facts on things, do I have the time to speak my opinions on them?

Interesting to ponder all of this while living in a fast paced world where depth is not valued much.  On my deathbed, I think I will want memories of really being present to the experiences of my life.  To remember the softness of my dogs' ears, the confidence of my daughter's voice, the blue of my son's eyes, the strength of Michael's hands.  Those will soothe me more than knowing I rushed through many experiences that I only remember as fleeting stories.

Last week, I flew to Seattle to hear talks given by the man I call my teacher.  I am glad I did.  Still, teachers are everywhere.  Right here, right now.  Sometimes they show up as a little Vietnamese monk and sometimes they appear as a giant American in a bar.