Slogan Twenty-eight

Abandon any hope of fruition.

From the Lojong for the Layperson booklet:             

            “Fruition” implies a belief that certain efforts will make our future lives better. Unfortunately, we are inclined to carve in stone what we think the fruit should look like. If we’re constantly preoccupied with our expectations, we’ll never relax in the present; we’ll forget to enjoy the moment itself. And when we are fixated on the results, we lose track of the undertaking we’re supposed to be focused on. Instead of paying attention to the task we’re doing, we become obsessed with manipulating the end result to our satisfaction. Such an agenda can work against us, making us fearful, stubborn, frustrated and impatient. We may fail to see any signs of improvement, unaware that our preconceived ideas are preventing us from seeing progress. This slogan prompts us to act without attachment to a specific outcome.

Photo: Ripening fruit on a fig tree.

            One of the perks of marrying my husband is that he didn’t really care what I did to our yard. In one semi-isolated corner, I had a dream to build a small arbor-like enclosure. I could imagine myself sitting inside, communing with nature and having an outdoor spot for meditation. I sketched off some plans, bought lumber and screws, then began the task of measuring and sawing. A few weeks later the structure was finished, and I set about planting ferns inside. The finishing touches were a little bench to sit on and a terra cotta rabbit hidden beneath the fronds. It was a cozy little retreat, and I couldn’t wait to use it. Unfortunately when I was drawing up plans and dreaming of meditative bliss, I forgot to include dealing with mosquitoes. Here in South Georgia, the only time we don’t have these insects is winter. So as I tried to find my bliss, they buzzed in my ears and bit me wherever they could. Only covering myself in DEET seemed to help, which was not a solution I wanted to rely on. My expectation of a perfect escape turned out to be imperfect in reality; since I couldn’t accept it any other way, I was terribly unhappy. Over twenty years later, the structure still sits abandoned with the exception of its use by birds and squirrels. I may have control over my actions and efforts, but not their outcome. Forming a concrete shape of what my happiness and peace are supposed to look like is almost a guaranteed way not to find either one.