Peak Experience

"Gotta make the donuts." - Actor-Baker guy on the old Dunkin' Donuts commercial

Day 36. Three re-boots to get to my blog. That is a lot even for this ancient piece of rubbish. I'd better type fast; I'm not sure how long I have until the next error message is generated.

Remember that commercial when the semi-conscious baking guy arrives at 4:00 a.m. to make the donuts at Dunkin Donuts, sleepily muttering the above quote? That line, spoken in the same demeanor, has been in my mind today. For some reason I've interpreted it as an updated version of "Most (of us) live lives of quiet desperation," or the famous Zen recommendation to "Chop wood, carry water." I grasp the wisdom of these sentiments: Do what needs to be done. Some days it's easier than others. I didn't make any baked goods today, but my inner monologue ran something like this: "Gotta get the oil changed; gotta get the tires balanced and rotated; gotta buy gluten-free food at the health food store; gotta call in that prescription; gotta return those phone calls; gotta write that intake; gotta carry out the recycling bin; gotta load the dishwasher, gotta write the blog, gotta sit meditation" . . . ad infinitum. I'm not feeling philosophical or inspirational about any of it. The tedium is grating.

Why, then, the title "Peak Experience" for today's blog? Since I say the phrase a lot in my life, and it's likely to pop up in the blog from time to time, I decided to explain its origin. Surprisingly, it's not the academic term described by Humanistic psychologists, although I think they generally receive the credit.

During the first year of my first job after completing my Ph.D., I worked in the counseling center of a public university. One day I was waiting to use the copier while a lovely, reed-thin woman in a vibrantly colored turban made her copies. As the Xerox churned out the last of her request, it beeped and she exclaimed, "Peak Experience! The copier ran out of paper at exactly the same time I finished my copies!" She proceeded to open the paper tray and reload it, smiling at me and gesturing that it was my turn. The beautiful lady sauntered off down the hall.

A couple of days later I was visiting with a colleague in the break room. The turbaned woman passed by, and I grinned, remembering her exclamation at the copy machine. I told the story to my friend, and asked who the woman was. My friend replied that she was an intern at the counseling center who had just completed a long round of chemotherapy. The friend sadly shared that the intern's cancer had not gone into remission, and the likelihood of recovery was extremely low.

I got to know that spirited woman throughout the year of her internship. A remission continued to allude her, but somehow she continued to work, and kept the entire staff laughing in the process. This was in 1988, when "being in the moment" and "living in the here-and-now" weren't such trite and overused phrases. She lived in the moment because it could very well be among her last. She did it with grace and perspective and raunchy humor. I remember many occasions when she exclaimed, "Peak experience!" over things I considered mundane. Now that over 20 years have past, I understand her a lot better.

Today I thought of my friend from long ago when I flipped on the TV during my lunch break, and a show about Rosa Parks was on BET. I heard myself exclaim, as I often do, "Peak experience!" because I had referenced Rosa Parks in my blog only yesterday. I have come to treasure those serendipitous moments when life offers up a little slice of synchronisity. It turns the mundane into the marvelous. The trick is to notice them, because the moments aren't preceded with a big banner that says, "Pay attention! This is going to be really cool!" Sitting helps me pay attention, and when you're watching for them, Peak Experiences crop up all the time.

Gassho,
CycleBuddhaDoc