Making Mistakes

And Moving On | Present Sense № 26

‘Spilt Milk’ by David Cobley (oil paint on linen)

Welcome to Present Sense – a weekend curation with 7 sensory recommendations: something to SEE, HEAR, SMELL, TASTE, TOUCH, BALANCE and ENVISION. Scroll below to join next week’s FREE LIVE MEDITATION.

I messed up.

Last week, I scheduled a meditation on Zoom and didn’t show up. That’s not the full story. I wasn’t there because I didn't think I needed to be. There was a glitch with the Zoom registration, so I thought no one had signed up.

It was my first time using this registration option. Ironically, I had done a lot of preparation to make sure it worked: I asked a friend to walk me through the process, I video recorded her screen as she showed me the step-by-step. I upgraded my Zoom account and I sent myself a test to make sure all was in place. And even with all that precaution, things didn’t work out.

Since I didn’t receive any email registrations, I assumed that the time and day I picked didn’t work out for anyone. So I slept in a bit that morning, recovering from a flu, and then woke up to a few emails from subscribers waiting for me on Zoom. I was late before the day even started, which is a sure way to take a triple shot of cortisol in the morning (more effective than espresso to wake you up!).

One of my biggest worries is disappointing people, so this situation tapped into a dread I try to avoid at all cost. Another pet peeve of mine is when I plan everything “correctly” and things somehow don’t work out. I assume that outcomes are directly linked to the rightful course of actions. But life often reminds me that while there might be a correlation between the two, there’s no guarantee.

When we make a mistake, there are a few ways to handle it:

1. Let it crush you, dig a hole and hide out in shame for the rest of the day (or longer if needed).

2. Blame someone else for the mistake.

3. Take responsibility, apologize to those concerned and… move on.

Part of me is offended by the “move on” part – shouldn’t we carry a good amount of guilt? Shouldn’t there be some sort of emotional punishment when we mess up? How else will we rectify our moral failing?

In the past, I’ve often opted for the first option. I would let one mistake dictate how I felt about myself, use it as evidence of my inadequacies and blow it out of proportion to taint the rest of the actions taken that day.

I consider myself a very reliable and responsible person – it’s an integral part of my identity. So any sign that points to the contrary feels like a shattering of my foundation. Even though I can find many more examples of times I’ve shown up well, these instances somehow slip into oblivion when a mistake is made.

But this recent mistake offered me an opportunity to choose a different approach. I had an important work call later that morning, and I was determined to not bring that negative dooming energy into it. So, I emailed those who registered for the meditation and apologized, offering a bit of context as to what happened. Surprisingly (or maybe not), people were understanding and forgiving. Others didn’t seem to notice or care. Mistakes happen to all humans, and apparently even to machines (technology isn’t without fail).

Perhaps this was a karmic boomerang effect, as I was on the receiving end of someone’s mistake recently. A very similar situation happened, where I scheduled a meeting with someone to come speak to a big group, and they didn’t show up. That evening, I was in a different time zone, already asleep, so I didn’t realize the person’s mistake until the next morning.

Again, I woke up to a slurry of texts, little green bubbles of apologies. The person had lost track of time, and missed the meeting. From their tone, I could sense how genuinely remorseful they felt and their eagerness to make up for it. Again, when others make a mistake, there are also a couple options:

1. Make them feel worse about it – often through responding in a passive-aggressive manner. Some drop the “passive” part and can even take it to rageful extremes.

2. Ignore the person and zap them out of your life.

3. Acknowledge their mistake, forgive, and work out another solution. Again, moving on…

I’m not proud to admit that sometimes I’ve chosen the first option. In retrospect, I realize that when I’ve taken that route, it was often fueled by my own fear and shame – mainly that someone else’s mistake made me look bad. I was afraid to lose respect or good standing in whatever group I was associated with. I hold the ingrained belief that someone else’s actions are a reflection of me. Taking the burden of other people’s responsibilities has been something I’ve been working on actively shedding.

Luckily, when this recent incident took place, I sent a gentle response back, letting the person know that mistakes happen and rescheduling a meeting time. It was simple, to the point, and without swallowed resentment. I could feel the relief in the response I received: “Your kindness made me feel better. Thank you.” The person then told me what actions they would take to make sure they wouldn’t miss the meeting again (extra caution).

Whether we’re the one at fault, or someone else is, when we choose the route of forgiveness we’re offering grace – both to ourselves and to others. It’s something I’m still new at practicing. My perfectionism can feel like a tyrant, and I realize that it doesn’t just pertain to me, but bleeds into my expectations of others. If I can’t let myself off the hook, I’m likely to be just as harsh with other people.

Perfectionism is always an illusory goal. It simply doesn’t exist. Living a life devoid of mistakes is impossible. It’s like striving to step between raindrops in a rainfall. It’s simply much easier (and sometimes more fun) to just get wet – and turn it into a dance.

I could have swept this mistake under the rug, but I decided to write about it. The goal is not to blow it out of proportion (again, moving on is the key), but to normalize our humanity. It’s perhaps not a coincidence that one of my most popular Seven Senses editions has been on the topic of failure. It was published over a year and a half ago, so I’m sharing it again here, in case you missed it:

Fail again. Fail Better.

I’m also taking the risk to conduct a meditation next week. This time, regardless of email confirmations, I’ll be there (and logged in early!). If you’d like to join, please sign up below:

This week’s sensory recommendations include a graphic novel, singing trees, a new way to write letters, and a sonic translation of my words, amongst other delights. Most of my weekly highlights are meant to be experienced in real life (rather than online).

In Joy,

Sabrina

SEE

‘Are you my Mother?’ | graphic memoir by Alison Bechdel

Available at indie bookstores and online

I have a soft spot for graphic novels, which blend my love for words and art. For a while, I used to associate them with my youth and didn’t think that there were many adult topics. But in recent years, I’ve discovered a wide array of incredible ones. I purchased this graphic memoir by chance at one of my favorite bookstores (Bart’s Books in Ojai), and loved discovering the artist’s work. Her first graphic memoir ‘Fun Home’, which came out in 2006, was a finalist for the National Book Critics Circle Award and was adapted as a musical that won a Tony Award for Best Musical in 2015.

Photo by Greg Immel

HEAR

The Sound of Forests

Listen on Tree.Fm

Last week, I featured the sounds of decomposing fruit (which resemble a chanting group). And today I’m offering you the music of the forest, which I discovered via the newsletter of

Simon James French

. It features the sounds of forests from around the world, and you too can submit your own recording of your local forest. Even better: go outside and listen to the trees.

SMELL

Mulling Spice | Herbal Spice Drink

Available at Pannikin Coffee & Tea

I received this concoction as a gift (thanks Laura H.!) and it feels like the perfect seasonal drink. It’s technically designed to be used in ciders or mulled wine but I’ve been drinking it as an herbal tea. It contains a blend of spices, including cinnamon, cardamom pods, allspice berries, cloves, star anise pods, dried orange peel and black peppercorns. You could also create your own, which would make a great holiday gift.

Jujubes from the Farmer’s Market

TASTE

Jujube

I had my first jujube recently, which I bought at the Santa Monica Farmer’s Market. Known as a Chinese date, these little fruits are beneficial for digestion, blood detoxification, and circulation issues. I would describe them between an apple and a date, and can either be eaten crunchy or with more of a spongy texture.

TOUCH

Illustrated Diary Letter

I have a pen pal (more on that one day), and I’ve been promising to send a drawing for some time. Again my perfectionism was getting in the way but this week I decided to finally jump the hurdle and draw something simple: an illustration of my week, through the senses, which included my new coffee mug bought on a recent trip, a recipe with all the needed ingredients, two books I got from the library, and my cat.

I

BALANCE

Foam & Spaciousness | Talk by Eckhart Tolle

Listen online

Last week, when going through a bit of a spell of anxiety, I looked up some Eckhart Tolle talks for a bit of guidance. I stumbled upon this one which focuses on decision-making, and I particularly liked the analogy of foam and spaciousness (about 9 minutes in). Tolle refers to “foam” as our thoughts and actions and “spaciousness” as presence. I also love how Tolle admits that he struggles himself to find the balance – he leans much more on spaciousness than foam.

ENVISION

Interactive artwork: words into sound and script

On view at Pratt Institute until December 17, 2024

Last week, I featured some of my favorite art exhibitions which I recently saw in NYC and LA. One of them, ‘Seeing Sound,’ offered the chance to type a sentence, which was then translated into sound as well as a mysterious computer script. This is what I wrote: “We need silence in order to hear one another” (an echo from my recent edition on Silence).