Via Lions Roar: A Bad Day at the Airport

What better place to work with your mind?

Here is a practice I have been working with for more than a decade. I recite, usually silently, these two sentences:

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

These blessing phrases cultivate and sustain a mind of peace and goodwill. For me, they represent the promise of practice. “May I meet this moment fully” expresses my faith that an alert and balanced mind is a possibility for human beings. “May I meet it as a friend” reminds me that my mind’s natural benevolence is my best refuge. Although most of my daily practice has always been the simple practice of alert attention to changing experience, I often begin periods of simple sitting with some repetitions of this two-phrase mantra as a kind of mood-setter, an incliner of my mind toward relaxing.

In recent years, I find this blessing comes to mind naturally in times of stress as I go about my life. Recently, I decided to track its activity through a particularly stressful day:

I arrive at the airport well in time for my early morning flight to Orange County, where an old friend has taken quite ill. I notice the flight is delayed. I feel myself starting to cry.

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

I realize that I am feeling sad because I love my friend, and am sad to be losing her. I think about how long we’ve been friends. The pleasure of that thought settles my mind.

Then, I hear the announcement that the flight has now been cancelled. I ask about the next available flight and am waved in the direction of a long line, where I’m told I need to wait for the next available agent. “If I wait in that line, it will be too late for the next flight. I already have a boarding pass,” I say. “You need to be in that line,” I’m told again.

I feel mad. I think, “I’ll write that letter on behalf of all passengers who should be treated more respectfully!”

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

I realize that everyone needs to wait and that I feel particularly sensitive because I’m sad. A helpful person standing in line says, “If we phone the airline while we stand here, we can probably get faster service.” I decide to do that. I dial. The phone rings and rings. I am feeling irritable.

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

I am told, electronically, that my call is very important to the airline and that an agent will be with me soon. That message repeats many times. I hear my mind again composing indignant letters to Customer Service.

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

My mind calms down and I realize that I am disappointed with myself because my friend is sick and I am indulging myself in indignation. “Really, Sylvia! What are you thinking?”

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

The line progresses slowly. I repeat my phrases slowly, paying attention to what I am saying. I look around at the other travelers and wonder where they are going. In my mind, I begin blessing them.

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

It is my turn at the ticket counter just at the point that my phone call is answered and so I hang up. I realize I’ve calmed down. The agent is courteous. I learn that all the flights until mid-afternoon have been cancelled because of the thunderstorms. I rebook for the next day.

The airport bus for my trip home arrives just as I emerge from the terminal in time to board it. I’m grateful, and a little bewildered from the morning of hurrying up and waiting and ultimately going back home. But I’m all right. Just a little tired.

May I meet this moment fully.
May I meet it as a friend.

I travel without difficulty the next day to be with my friend.

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