Equanimity and Oranges
Let’s begin with oranges and happiness and then we’ll talk about chaos, sure.
Do you know the poem by Wendy Cope, The Orange?
Here it is:
The Orange
At lunchtime I bought a huge orange—
The size of it made us all laugh.
I peeled it and shared it with Robert and Dave—
They got quarters and I had a half.
And that orange, it made me so happy,
As ordinary things often do
Just lately. The shopping. A walk in the park.
This is peace and contentment. It’s new.
The rest of the day was quite easy.
I did all the jobs on my list
And enjoyed them and had some time over.
I love you. I’m glad I exist.
{source}
I love poems about oranges. Mentions of them will do. The “rhymeless” orange as Carol Ann Duffy called it in her poem The Human Bee. Oranges come up from time to time here on TwB. Sometimes with sardines. Sometimes they show up in January to remind us of the “stunning wholeness of the world.” Sometimes there is a net of oranges that reminds us how libraries shine.
As I was thinking about oranges, the light they hold, the wholeness of them, their happy ordinariness, the ease with which an orange may be shared, I scrolled by an article by Sharon Salzburg, which caught my eye immediately because of the title: “How to Stay Calm in the Midst of Chaos.” And it began in this very relatable way asking:
“How do we navigate the overall unruliness of life, so filled as it is with urgencies—tasks left undone, friends who need help, health problems, financial pressures, family crises, community crises, world crises? How do we sustain ourselves, our sanity, our open hearts and clear vision in the face of these ongoing challenges?”
She talks about feeling with intensity but not becoming overwhelmed and the phrase that sticks for me is that equanimity “demands of us wisdom” which is what will “give us a growing sense of peace.”
“Equanimity,” says Salzburg, “can be described as the voice of wisdom, being open to everything, able to hold everything. Its essence is complete presence.”
I’m not an expert on equanimity, or oranges, for that matter. I follow the advice of C.D. Wright:
“Follow the lights in your own skull.”
I think of the poem by Adam Zagajewski:
Moment
Clear moments are short.
There is much more darkness. More
ocean than terra firma. More
shadow than form.
____________________
I think about the light that bright orb contains, the orange. I think about my skull, and all the light in there. The way an orange casts a shadow, the way it glows. I'm thinking about the importance of staying calm in the chaos. I’m thinking about your urgencies; I’m thinking about mine. I’m thinking about opening up my heart like one opens up an orange. It has to be this way, the light, the opening, the shadow cast by the skin cast off. The clear moments. Then the darkness, again. But the light.
Always the blisters of bright juicy light.
