EXPECTATION, DISAPPOINTMENT, AND BALANCE
So much of our existence depends on balance. For example, we can survive only within a fairly narrow range of temperatures. Moreover, that survival depends upon taking in certain ratios of gases in the air, particularly nitrogen and oxygen.
If exposed to too much heat or cold or the oxygen level changes, then we die. That reality is most apparent when we send humans into space. Astronauts must carry their own portable environment with them; tailored precisely to keep all requirements in balance.
There are dozens of examples illustrating the point that balance is important to stay alive. But, balance is also key in other characteristics of our lives. Today I’m talking about expectation and disappointment.
We hear from many sources that holding expectations is “bad.” They are responsible for our disappointment. Well, the absence of expectation is simply not human.
It may be fine for a hermit living on a mountainside contemplating the nature of creation. But for the rest of us, who actively engage in trying to work together to build and enjoy society, then we have expectations.
Without expectations, why would anyone do anything? Why do people take music lessons? They expect to play songs. Why do people go to college? They expect to increase their knowledge and use it in some beneficial way. Why do people fall in love? They expect it will provide them with joy that is not readily available from other sources.
When expectations are not met, then disappointment occurs. After a few disappointments, we might decide we don’t like it enough to avoid situations which lead to it. But, unless we climb that mountain with the hermit, we open ourselves up to disappointment every day.
I’m sure even the hermit has disappointment, no matter how much he tries to meditate them away.
Disappointment happens.
Maybe it’s not expectations that cause problems, but rather it’s the inflexibility we maintain that our happiness depends on our expectations being realized in exactly every detail we’ve crafted. Maybe we have to learn NOT to be so attached to the outcome.
Even the expectations that do get realized always unfold different than we imagined. Occasionally this occurs in ways more glorious than we imagined. But usually the results are a bit muted from the unbridled zeal running rampant in our imagination.
If we pursue our expectation with full knowledge that an outcome will occur, and we’re realistic enough to understand the outcome always exceeds or falls short of our preconceived notion, then we may be better able to appreciate exactly what we do receive.
Approach each endeavor with enthusiastic wonder by asking yourself, “How will it unfold?” Be less dogmatic in your attachment to the outcome. Then you will both lessen your disappointment when things don’t go exactly as planned and find greater joy when they exceed your wildest dreams. Learn to appreciate balance. It is the natural state of human existence.
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It’s nice to know in an emergency situation, competent, caring emergency personnel can be summoned. That’s the theory, anyway.
One beautiful, Labor-Day weekend, I was anxious to get some exercise. I hadn’t been on a bicycle recently, but I did thirty miles.
When I got back, I weeded the garden for a couple of hours. Later that evening as I made dinner, I reached for a large plate. I felt a stab of pain. I screamed.
My back muscles knotted in a spasm and I collapsed on the floor. My husband heard me and rushed into the kitchen. He tried lifting me, but I yelled at him to let me be. He picked up the phone and dialed 911, requesting an ambulance.
An hour went by before we heard the sirens and saw the flashing lights. I mumbled, “Good thing I’m not dying.” There was a knock at the door and the ambulance crew shuffled in.
The crew consisted of an old man and old woman. And when I say old, I mean old — white hair, frail bodies, bad breath.
“Sorry we’re late, Miss. We’re not the regular crew. There’s a big party at the hospital and they’re tied up. I’m Mack and this is Lilly.” The woman bobbed her head.
“So, I hear you hurt your back. Have you tried to get up?” Mack grasped my hand, pulling it roughly. I throttled a scream.
“Alright. Lilly is gonna take your vitals and then we’ll strap you to this board and take you to Putnam Memorial.”
Lilly fumbled in a bag and produced a cardiac defibrillator and paddles. Mack looked over and shook his head. Lilly resumed her search. She extracted a blood-pressure monitor and stethoscope. Mack nodded, “Yes”.
Lilly strapped the blood-pressure cuff to my arm. She was pre-occupied with the stethoscope and didn’t notice my arm ballooning off the floor.
“Hey, that hurts!”
Mack tapped Lilly on the shoulder. She looked up and deflated the cuff saying, “Your pressure’s a little high.”
I bit back a nasty retort.
Mack and my husband positioned the board next to me and lifted me onto it. Then Lilly came around, motioning my husband out of the way. I bleated in alarm.
“You and Mack aren’t going to try and lift me, are you?”
Mack patted my hand. “Don’t worry, we’ve done this before. I think it was around Christmas last year, that right Lilly?”
She nodded. “Yeah, but the guy was dead.”
“Well, this is almost the same thing. Besides, it’s hospital policy. You civilians need to let us professionals do our job.”
Lilly and Mack hoisted me up and carefully maneuvered me out of the kitchen. I relaxed. But then, Lilly’s pocket snagged on the front-door knob. She was thrown off-balance and the board teetered.
I felt myself sliding, feet first. I lost it and yelled, “You idiots!”
This startled Mack who loosened his grip. Then my husband was beside us. He took Mack’s end, holding the board so I was almost upright. I struggled to loosen the straps.
“Hey, I think I’m alright now. Get me out of this thing!” That wasn’t entirely true, but anything seemed better than being carted off by the Mack ‘n Lilly Demolition Derby.
The straps loosened and with Mack holding me, I took a few shaky steps forward. The will to live is a powerful thing.
“I’m fine. I’m going inside to lay down.” Mack and Lilly looked at each other and shrugged. My husband took my arm. I held onto him with a death grip as we made our way slowly into the house. Just before crossing the threshold, I shouted over my shoulder.
“Hey, that was fun. Next time, I’ll make sure I don’t need an ambulance on a holiday weekend.”
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