Lessons learned from a sandwich and Mt. Rainier

I was driving east on the I-90 bridge on Saturday in a very discombobulated state. I had just finished teaching my Saturday class, hustled to the store to grab salad fixings for a dinner party and a sandwich for lunch, and was eating in the car as I rushed to a yoga meeting in Bellevue. My sandwich was, regrettably, really good. As I drove, I wished I was eating the sandwich -- a tart mix of Mama Lil's peppers, salami, provolone, mustard and pesto on a pretzel roll -- like a normal person. A normal person would sit down to eat such a good sandwich instead of scarfing it down while driving a car.

As I rounded a curve, Mount Rainier suddenly loomed ahead of me in all her snowy, still beauty. I looked up and admired her. Then it hit me that I could neither appreciate my sandwich nor The Mountain in my flustered, frantic state. I already had edged out of a conversation with a teacher about  meditation post-class because I didn't want to be late to my meeting. And now here I was, so deep in my head I was missing all the good moments. There were some good moments to be had, even if they were all in transition from a yoga class to a yoga meeting.

On Sunday, I tried again.

I went for a walk in Discovery Park. Rainier peeked out from underneath the clouds.

I also had a real conversation with my friend Lauren while breathing fresh, salty air and sitting on driftwood on the beach. I returned to the real world today. It's quite lovely here.