You might say that I'm stretching it by relating a metaphor of an aphorism which is likely intended to be metaphorical, but I might say, "screw it, it's my blog", but with love, and only a hint of power-trip.
I read a book recently, called "Loving What Is". It's sort of book of wisdom, talking about letting go of your beliefs about things, and about what should be, and instead embracing reality. The focus of this book is a technique known as Byron Katie's (the author) Work.
After a few months of using this technique, and from it finding more reprieve from emotional duress than anything I'd come across before, as well as getting tons of epiphanies about life, reality, and my own thinking, I became "the person with the lemon".
Anytime anybody was upset, be it friend, family, colleague or client, my first instinct would be to either recommend them the book or teach them the technique. It haunted me. I wanted everyone to use it. I felt like the world would be so much better, that people would be so much happier.
Of course, this line of thinking utterly went against the principles of the book, in that I was stuck on this set of beliefs that people were upset, that they shouldn't be upset, and that the technique would help them.
People who win the lottery often go bankrupt.
People with high-speed internet phones will google things all the time.
Really fat people will, er, that is, I'm not sure.
The fact is, when something is on our minds, we apply it to everything. Just like the guy who has been recently dumped will advise all his friends based on things that happened to him in the course of the relationship, we use the tools we have, be they physical or intellectual. We use the tools that are at hand.
This can, perhaps, give us some empathy for the broken records among us. My experience with Loving What Is helps me understand door-to-door proselytizers. Their motives, while perhaps offensive to some of us, may be very good and loving. I was surely irritating to some friends as I kept citing this book over and over ad nauseum, but I think they all understood that it was something I thought would help. (would it? Just because someone saved my life by pouring a bucket of water on my head when I was on fire doesn't mean I will cure my friend's measles by doing the same. However, that's a whole 'nother post.)
I think the interesting place to take this is not questioning the lemoneer for the lemon frenzy- after all, they have lemons, of course they want to use them. Instead, how did the lemons get into their hands?
How is it that this particular book stuck with me?
Why did the rice-eater buy so much rice?
Why did the very fat person eat so very much?
Is it all fate, and luck of the draw, or do we have pre-propensities?
If I hadn't found this book, would I be spouting on about some other technique, or making on up of my own?
Would the rice-bagger instead have found themself in excess of another grain or food-item?
When the lemoneer have been sour-seeking in other ways?
(nothing more on the very fat person)
It's sort of question of nature vs. nurture, or chicken and the egg. We are what we think, we act on what have have or what we can do- but how did we find the thoughts, find our abilities?
Perhaps, this is...the true nature of the soul?
Or perhaps I'm skipping a whole lot of basic child psychology theories. It doesn't matter. I really want some lemonade right now. It just, seems like the thing.
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