Stitching my ego

I could see my toe from the small hole in my shoe which was getting bigger and bigger day by day. I kept delaying the repair and the day came when I had no option but to do something about it. 

We asked a few people if there was a cobbler in the village but there wasn’t any. I thought of mending it myself but I wasn’t sure if I could manage. The person whom I asked looked at my shoe and said let me try. I asked him if he has done it before to which he said, not really. I row boat but this would be an opportunity for me to serve you. 

I was observing him and the very first thing that struck me was the love with which he was doing it. A part of me was feeling embarrassed as I knew how dirty my shoe was and he was holding it as if they were a bunch of flowers. While he was doing it I could sense some discomfort in me. The fear that I was holding all this while of not knowing versus the effort this man was putting in something that he hasn’t done before in an effortless way. It’s amazing how in a village everyone knows everything. And how my “education” or my urban upbringing was inhibiting in doing something new. . 

As I kept observing my mind I arrived at a thought that shook me. My mind made a discrimination and said that this is not my job. It is a lower job. I realised the root of this thought was coming from the social conditioning that I have grown in. I couldn’t believe my own thoughts and a part of me was feeling ashamed. The resistance of not doing it myself was not only fear of doing a new job but also this deep conditioning. I wanted to get up and give him water to clean his hands but I couldn’t go beyond a courteous thank you. 

I just kept sitting with these discomforting thoughts that evening. The neatness of each stitch reminded me of the lost opportunity to share my gratitude. After that day, every time I look at that patch on my shoe it reminds me to practice humility.