We try to go to the farmers market every Saturday morning that we’re in town. Lisa really likes it. She talks to the vendors, she learns about their farms, she enjoys the vibrant colors, and she feels good about supporting local farmers. We see people that we know there, and there is a little bit of human connection.
For some reason I don’t like it as much as she does. I worry that some of the many dogs there will start to fight with each other (although most of them are well-behaved), and I don’t like the way some of the humans behave — grabbing the best looking apples before someone else, not paying attention to who was at a stand first, being generally pushy, and I feel badly for the vendors who have no customers. I know that bored feeling. So I wander around a little, but it’s not my favorite pastime.
Then one week, maybe halfway into the selling season, a new vendor showed up, selling fresh, hot mini donuts. Not only were the donuts delicious, but he was a nice guy, and I enjoyed talking to him. My farmers market experience was totally transformed. I started to look forward to getting up early on a Saturday and going.
So I was disappointed when I got there and found the usual Dinky Donuts space to be empty. I actually looked around to see if they had moved, but they were nowhere to be found. My mood shifted with a sudden jerk in a rotten direction, and everything in my vision took on a gray tinge. My overreaction is typical for me. It is related to things that happened in my childhood that I won’t get into here, but I’ll just say that unexpected changes affect me more than most people, and more than they should. In any case, I left the market and went to my car to sulk.
I’ve had a few disappointments lately. One project that I’m working on cost far more than I anticipated, and I’m still reeling a little from the changes that expense has made in my plans. I seem to be disappointed by our government every time I watch the news. And the weather has just continued to get worse. Did we even have a summer this year?
Disappointments are different than losses, of course. A loss is much more permanent, and painful. But a disappointment can have a lasting impact. It can change hopes and dreams, and alter future expectations. It may be that disappointment moves us in the direction of truth. Assuming that something or someone will always be there for you, or always do what you want them to, is just unrealistic. One of the benefits of mindfulness practice is that it focuses on the present moment — that which is happening right now — and recognizes that the past is gone and the future hasn’t yet arrived. It teaches that we should approach things as they occur with what they call “child mind,” which means looking at life as though each experience is new. That changes the character of an event: “Oh, isn’t that interesting. The donut stand is not there.”
Disappointments are always related to expectations. If your expectations are low, then you won’t get very disappointed if things don’t work out the way you wanted. This is not to say that we should reduce our expectations. That might affect the effort we put into a project, or change an important goal. I think it can be helpful to realize that disappointments are unmet expectations, and that expectations can be revised to reflect new realities.
This week, my donut guy is back. That made me happy, but it’s interesting — not as happy as I was before. Now there is a little annoying thought in the back of my brain that says, “They might not be here next week.” It’s a change in my expectation. That may not be a bad thing.
