When I was a child, we spent summers in a village where the streets had no names.
Life was simple there, especially in the early years.
There was no electricity; we came inside from running around outdoors just as mom was filling the kerosene lamps and lighting them.
She'd make us wash our arms and legs down to our feet in the large round basin filled with cold water before sitting down for dinner in the soft lamplight.
I vaguely remember the summer when tall poles went up in the streets and electricity finally was available for us.
Life was simple in the village, but not easy, especially for mom.
She did laundry by hand, hung it out to dry on lines between two trees outside. She had a gas burner in one corner of the bathroom with a vat on top where she used to heat water for laundry and baths. Next to it on the floor was a square, stone washbasin with a faucet supplying fresh water.
I hated that basin, but I'd pay good money for it now. To take a bath, we filled it halfway with cold water, and then using a large hollowed gourd as a ladle, we added hot water from the vat to it.
We had a low chair to sit on and wash ourselves and used the gourd ladle to rinse with the warm water.
I hated this procedure! I put up a big fight at bath time. It took forever to wash and rinse my long hair and I often ran out of warm water.
I hated it until the day I noticed the mulberry tree.
Right above the stone basin was a window looking out on the garden, and right outside the bathroom in that garden was a big tall mulberry tree, its branches reaching all the way to the window.
I was about eight years old when I discovered that if I put my feet on top of the stone basin sides very carefully and reached out through that window, I could have a mulberry party for one.
Bath time became a game after that.
I'd take my sweet time in there, washing some, then carefully climbing on the sides of the basin and eating mulberries butt naked. I savored the juicy sweetness of the dark red berries bursting in my mouth till I heard mom's knock on the door and rushed to finish.
I told no one, because it was my own happy secret, but I didn't fuss about baths anymore.
Years later, in the comfort of my suburban US home, when faced with an unpleasant task or situation, I've told myself - if only there was a mulberry tree outside the window.
It's become my metaphor for adding, creating, finding something pleasurable about a pesky job that has to be done, something to make a tough situation better.
Have you ever found yourself stuck in a job or life situation that's almost unbearable for you? You don't like it, or you don't like your boss, your co-workers; the job itself is not fulfilling.
You know you want to leave, but for some reason you stay. Maybe you don't have the courage yet. Or you don't believe there's anything better out there. Or perhaps you're looking for something else, but need to stay for the income until you find it.
But meanwhile what do you do?
You find a "mulberry tree." That's what.
Here are some ideas from my clients.
1. Bring your own "mulberry tree" to your office or life:
- Jill decorated her cubicle with nature and animal photos she had taken on her many trips.
2. Be the "mulberry tree" yourself!
- James found the atmosphere at his job aloof. No one seemed to be interested in anyone else; grumpy people everywhere. So he decided to change things himself by starting conversations, asking questions, listening, bringing people together. Soon enough, he and his coworkers were going for lunchtime walks and coffee breaks together.
3.Notice the "mulberry trees" around you. Make an intention to look closer at the beauty that exists in your surroundings.
- Mary had never noticed the beautiful park just outside her building!
4.Play the game of recognizing acts of kindness around you.
- James noticed a fellow commuter smiling at people around him every morning and started doing so himself. He got smiles and connection back.
Life is full of "mulberry trees". Look for them, notice them, recognize them and even be them. And watch your situation change!