At a particularly low point in my wayward adolescence, a boarding school guru once told me the tale of the tiger and the strawberry.
I tried my best to follow its wisdom, finding small moments of everyday happiness in between everyday detachment and depression as I continued down the same self-destructive spiral and my options further dwindled.
Then things got better. It didn’t happen all at once- in fact, things got worse first- but I came out on top, relatively healthy, relatively happy.
But it wasn’t because of the Kōan. Quite the opposite. I swatted at the rats. I clawed at the cliff. Foregoing the strawberry, I grit my teeth and held on.
Because, spirituality of surrender aside, no flurry of fevered punches can last forever. They may swirl about your head from every direction, but there will eventually be an opening. Hold on.
