The Art of Savoring

Think about the last time you had an ideal sized portion of an absolutely delicious meal. You know the one I'm talking about. The kind of meal when you had just enough to satisfy you completely without making you feel overfull and every single bite dazzled your taste buds. For me, I think it would be the last time I had a really good cold-water lobster tail which was when we went out to dinner on our ninth anniversary almost a year ago to the day. I remember making sure that the last bite or two of lobster were the very last thing I ate after finishing up all of my side dishes and anything else that was still on my plate. When I was finished, I didn't even want anything for dessert because I couldn't think of any way the the experience could have been improved upon. I guess you could say that I was truly savoring every last bite of lobster. 

Perhaps you've had a similar experience recently with something you ate or maybe a really good glass of wine, piece of dessert or even a particularly perfect cup of coffee? As you got closer and closer to the end, you had an even greater appreciation of how magical the experience had been and it was as if you never wanted to finish up the last of it. 

What if you applied this same mindset to everything you do in life? What if you looked at every single experience you were having as if it was extra precious and worthy of savoring right down to the very last instant. I can't help but think that by doing so we would create an opportunity to be more fully in the moment with every moment, even the moments that don't automatically always make us feel comfortable as they are happening. Even in the moments that seem so exceptionally routine that nothing of note could possibly emerge. This past week I was given an opportunity to put this to the test in a truly meaningful way as I spent my final week pre-kindergarten with my five year old daughter Emma. 

Last week I wrote about grief and as a part of that piece I noted that I had been experiencing a fair amount of grief as it related to this chapter of early childhood that is ending for my daughter. I realize that all parents travel through a series of never ending moments of wistfulness to process through the years. First day of pre-school, first day of kindergarten, overnight sleepovers, various graduations, learning to drive, going away to college, etc. Yes, I also realize that all of this is perfectly normal and that every ending is a new beginning, but it doesn't mean I have to like it! 

As a challenge to myself, over the last week I decided I would do my best to put aside my normal taskmaster mindset where I try to get as many things done as possible at the same time and instead I would set an intention to savor every moment I had with my daughter fully and completely. In doing so, I hoped to realize that moments like the ones I was going to have the opportunity to experience during this ten day stretch of vacation between preschool ending and kindergarten starting were going to be like no other moments I would have the chance to experience ever again. My goal was to savor every moment while I was in the moment much like I did with those final morsels of lobster at that perfect anniversary dinner a year ago. 

So how did that all work out for me you ask?

Like most things in life, the results were mixed. There were times when I felt completely overwhelmed because I had way too many things I was trying to get done at the same time and I was doing none of them particularly well. There were also times when every ounce of my energy was fully invested in the experience I was having. As I sit here on the final morning before our first Kindergarten drop off tomorrow, I can't help but feel grateful that I took note of so many moments over the last week and a half that I might have otherwise breezed past in my eternal state of doingness. 

For example there was that moment on Saturday when Emma and I went shopping at the nearby Whole Foods to get some fresh fruit and a gallon of organic milk. In many ways, nothing could be more routine than getting groceries, but with our eyes (and our hearts) wide open we can see so much more. As we turned into the parking lot, I asked Emma if she wanted me to park on the ground level or on the lower level. This particular Whole Foods is in the ground floor of a residential building so the overflow parking is actually underneath the store. Typically I only park underneath when it is raining or snowing as to avoid the elements, but for some reason I felt called to ask Emma about her preference on this particular day. 

Emma immediately shouted, "Under the store! Daddy can we park by a leaf since it's almost Fall? Yay!" My heart danced at her unbridled joy over the simple idea of parking under the store and taking the elevator, but I truly had no idea what she meant when she asked about parking by a leaf. Sure enough when I pulled into the basement parking lot, Emma eagerly pointed to the row of concrete pillars that were painted orange and had an outline of a leaf painted on them. Behind that was a row of blue pillars with snowflakes painted on them and in front of that a row of yellow pillars with images of the sun painted on them.

On one of our previous visits, five year old Emma must have taken note of the pillars and identified their relationship with the seasons, which is something that I managed to completely ignore over the entire ten years I have been shopping at this same Whole Foods. On the one had I was amazed and proud of Emma's remarkable recognition, memory and reasoning skills. On the other hand, I couldn't help but be reminded of how often in life I am flying through my life to get to whatever it is that I am trying to do next without even noticing what I seeing and doing in the present. 

Per Emma's request we parked by the orange pillar with the leaf, grabbed her favorite lamb and kitty stuffed animals who made the journey with us and took the elevator up to the main level to do our shopping. By her own choice, Emma sat in the cart like she used to do for many years when she was a much smaller child which brought back some additional fond memories for me. We passed by the fish counter not once, but twice so that we could name all the different types of fish and say hello to our favorite fishmonger. We collected all our preferred fruits and a gallon of organic milk before visiting the famous cookie bar near the checkout. This time around, Emma selected a yellow and orange striped fish shaped cookie instead of her usual pink butterfly cookie. I have to imagine that must also have had something to do with the coming of Fall and this season of change, but I didn't bother asking her for more details. 

After checking out and as I was rolling our shopping cart back to the elevator to return to our car, Emma sheepishly asked, "Daddy...can I have my fish cookie in the car instead of waiting until later today?" Usually we save the cookies until after a meal and since it was 11:30 a.m. lunch was just around the corner. I started to open my mouth and tell Emma that we had to go home and eat lunch first, but then quickly changed my mind and decided that on this special day, a little treat before lunch wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. When we got back to our parking space next to the orange pillar with the leaf, I handed Emma the little paper bag with her fish cookie and said, "You can eat the cookie in the car Emma...as long as you take your time and savor every bite." Needless to say, we both rode home with smiles on our faces and our hearts full. 

Years from now I doubt that I'll remember how much or how little work I got done that last week before Emma started kindergarten. I will pass no judgement on myself for leaving dirty dishes in the sink overnight instead of putting them in the dishwasher before falling asleep on the couch watching a rerun of Friends. I won't recall my frustration that the new client I was looking forward to working with changed their mind last minute. What I will absolutely remember though will be a rainy afternoon in the basement of the New Buffalo library wearing pirate hats, building a sand castle village at the Chicago beach on the day before the air and water show, and a particularly poignant visit to our local Whole Foods complete with a fish cookie. It is in these routine moments of life that the magic is made. 

Our lives are full of so many different types of moments. We get to choose whether we blow by them eager to get to the next thing or whether we savor them as sacred moments in time that you wish would never end. When we are young children, we don't need to be reminded to be in the moment. It just comes naturally to us every second of the day. Somewhere along the way we unlearn our natural tendency to appreciate things as they are happening even when they are the simplest possible things. This past week, my soon to be kindergartener once again became my master teacher by reminding me to stop and take notice. I am grateful for the lesson. 

Thanks again for reading this week's reflection. I got SO many responses to last week's post about grief and I can't tell you how much I appreciate it when I hear back from you with your own thoughts and stories. I'm sure I'll have plenty to say about the first week of kindergarten for Team Herbert. Expect to hear from me again later this week with more stories and some updates about the path ahead for my upcoming work projects. In the meantime check out my website for links to the most recent episodes of the It's About Life Podcast, upcoming Water of life Men's Community meetings and other ongoing programs. Until then, love and blessings. 

Jim