Memorycemetery

I remember moments. Certain indelible events take place during the course of my life that sear themselves into my brain and do not leave. I cannot remember what came before the event, what came after the event, or even precisely when the event occurred. I simply remember the moment.

As strange as it may sound, I remember the first shower I ever took. More precisely, I remember the moment I first washed my hair in the shower. I used Dad’s Johnson and Johnson shampoo, the kind that looked like the amber which held the dinosaur DNA in Jurassic Park. The disasterous fate which awaited me that morning superceded even that met by Jeff Goldblum and company.

The Johnson and Johnson brand of shampoo proclaimed the unique characteristic that it was “No Tears,” meaning one could get the goo in one’s eyes without the violent pain that often brought about tears in young people. That morning, I put Johnson and Johnson to the test, and rubbed a handful of shampoo in my eyes. Tears came. I tried to wash my eyes with water, but they kept burning.

I did not brave this thing called “shower” for months after that. I thought again about this defining moment, this memory of pain while carefully washing my hear. Some 30 years later, I’m still careful with shampoo, and don’t trust words so easily.

Every day, is a opportunity to learn from our experiences.  We think changes come on a big scale. We often trapped into thinking our lessons will come from a middle-aged guy standing at a podium in a prestigious auditorium, or we will find redcemption in Jesus…

But the most valued of what we acquire in this life is gained through the most unlikely of sources, and at the most unexpected times.  We have only to be open, to tear down the borders that are often built around us from the time we are very young. 

One of the best examples of this came to me a few years ago while I was at a conference in Las Vegas, Nevada.  I was returning from my morning trip to the gym.  I entered the elevator and began a conversation with a man there.  It was very brief.  We said hello, I said that it was nice to have sunshine this day instead of the rain we had yesterday.  The man looked at me and said, “Every day above ground is a good day.” And got off the elevator on his floor.

I did not know what the significance of his statement was at that moment, but I knew instantly  I had just been given a gift.  It was much later that I realized that my lesson, what I needed to learn about me from that 30 second ride in an elevator with a stranger, was that I was complaining. Complaining about everything and never happy with how things are, way too busy with being upset for no reason.

I never looked at it that way before, never realized it.  But there it was.  It was a huge lesson for my life.  I became conscious of my complaints and began to stop them before they developed.  I changed the words I used, the statements I made, and in doing so, the way I thought about so much of life.

 What does it have to do with shampoo?,- you might ask.

This memory of pain inflicted by shampoo and about meeting with that man in the elevator are both defining moments in my life.

They were unexpected and occurred in the most unlikely of places. But the impact they left was huge for my life. And so it is… the lessons I’ve learnt:

1. Be grateful for everything

2. Think for yourself

3. Feel the love.  Always, feel the love.

 Maria Cohen

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