Little Shifts, Big Difference

A short story of personal growth initiated by low-grade shredded wheat

The power of adversity to instruct never ceases to amaze me. Here at the camp, we are on sanctions yet again. This time we've completely lost access to outdoor recreation, our commissary spending limit is dramatically reduced, and the TVs are turned off. The restrictions elicit heightened grouchiness and whining from most, but not me. I've learned that if I pay attention, the deprivation will create space for my growth.

I sit in the chow hall, eating my makeshift meal made from food that I would normally not eat, but now do because I have to stretch my commissary dollars as far as possible. This lunch is shredded wheat that comes in a puck form that I assume is produced using the same machinery used to turn sawmill shavings into particleboard. I learned the hard way that adding milk to these beauties immediately results in dissolution into an unappetizing slurry.

But looked at differently, the pucks remind me of steroidal Triscuits, and suffice it to say, I am a fan of the Triscuit. Apply a little peanut butter and honey, and voila! Culinary delight. I munch away, enjoying my altered state of mind, washing each bite down with a sip of milk.

The TVs are not on to accompany the feast, allowing my gaze to venture out the small windows to the blue sky and trees waving in the breeze. My soul aches at its severance from the outdoors, but the view also connects me with gratitude. Loss has a way of creating gain by reminding us of the value of things.

At this time of year in the Mississippi River valley, the combination of airborne allergens and demonic gnats can cause even the most grateful track walker to perceive blessings as burdens. Stuck inside, I feel appreciation for those little things that I would normally abhor. The shift in my state of being opens a channel and out flows a series of haikus:

Dust and pollen swirl

Tormented respiration

Miss the wind dearly

Sweaty and sticky

Sun's merciless oppression

Miss the heat dearly

Territorial

Relentless head irritants

Miss the bugs dearly

The brewer of mud

Dashing plans for peaceful walks

Miss the rain dearly

Inconveniences

Mother Nature imposing

Miss her touch dearly

I rush to scribble the verses down on scrap paper as a buddy walks by and offers a complement on my new hairdo, or it could more accurately be called a no-hairdo. Haircuts are free, shampoo costs precious commissary dollars. The hair will grow back. The shift continues, allowing me to creatively adapt and overcome the challenges presented by my circumstances.

Deprivation no longer has the power to degrade. Quite the contrary; it upgrades me and expands the scope of possibilities. Perspective, gratitude, and adaptability. States of mind, being, and action. I make the shifts and everything else falls into place.