Peas and Presence

Shared By Jessica Peterson

Rowen loves frozen peas.  But he has not fine tuned the task of picking them up.  One day I watched as he went to feed himself a few peas.  He reached his chubby arm out with his pointer finger and thumb poised, his mouth already open to receive.  Oops, the pea went flying across the room.  He reached for another, oops, lost that one too.  He reached for another, oh no, once again the pea went flying.  Finally, with an apparent pressure adjustment between his pointer and thumb the fourth pea made it it into his waiting mouth.  Then he was off and ready for a fifth, his movements reaching perfection now.

What struck me in this moment was his intent focus and complete lack of discouragement.  In fact, he was more in a realm of equanimity.  He spent no time considering where the lost pea went, he was just on to the next one, and even when he succeeded there was no celebration, he was just on to the next one.  In that moment it was like watching a true artist.  The results were of no consequence, he was simply engrossed in the act of mastery.