On Dumpster Ferragamos

and the gift of gift horses

I’ve always heard the term don’t look a gift horse in the mouth and envisioned it being some sort of warning about getting bitten. If you look anything in the mouth, it’s a challenge of sorts. You’re just asking to be a meal. I discarded the helpful hints like “gift” and “horse”, deciding that it was an old timey phrase when perhaps horses were more predatory than they are now.

But recently I was on the phone with a friend and they used the phrase. This time their disembodied voice floated out of my speakerphone and hung in the air above the dishes I was washing. I couldn’t shake this image of a horse presenting a pink gift topped with a big bow and then looking at its giant smiling mouth. Perhaps you don’t want to offend its big teeth? I’m sure horses love their own teeth but by human standards they’re…a lot. Is it like offending a giver of gifts if you don’t like their shoes? I really felt I was missing the mark. 

I decided I could:

a. file that idiom in the mental folder marked mysterious language??
b. actually look it up for once in my little life. 

I chose option b. 

Turns out looking a gift horse in the mouth means you don’t want to criticize a gift that seems off the mark or shoddy. If someone gives you a horse as a gift, you shouldn’t count its teeth to determine just how young, spritely and valuable it actually is. 

Immediately I recognized this on a deep level. How many gift horses have I taken over the years? My childhood apartments were filled with furniture, dishes, even bedding from dead relatives. We never bought a new thing. While this can be chic, we did it haphazardly and without an overarching theme. This led to a decorating style that you could generously call “assorted”. We draped large swaths of fabric over towers of things we could not seem to sort through. When I finally started visiting friend’s houses I’d look for fabric structures, only to find the corners bare—or gasp, organized. 

Over the years, we had incredible luck in the westside alleys. Many a table, dresser, appliance was discovered by a trash can. In 6th grade I found a Ferragamo bag, propped up next to a dumpster in Brentwood. My first personal gift horse. It was a buttery leather number, which according to today’s research was the Marisa handbag.

I do not have the bag anymore, so tysm internet for this pic

At the time, I went to school in a wealthy neighborhood, where Juicy Couture track suits, Uggs and Free City sweats were major forms of social currency. I on the other hand, was a Forever 21 Girl, a Ross Dress For Less Girl, a Gap For Fancy Occasions Girl. When I found the handbag, I got weak in the knees. It was in strangely perfect condition, but I could instantly sympathize with whomever set it free, as it was an odd turquoise color. A color that dated itself as soon it left the store. I envisioned this handbag as a gift from a kooky aunt and the receiver being something of a classic dresser, who would find the turquoise to be jarring next to her collection of understated accessories. 

Despite the bag’s obvious flaw, I was there, ready to receive. It felt like the universe giving me something commercially trendy so that I could experience that illusive sensation. Turning the Ferragamo beauty over in my hands, I felt a tingle of excitement. Material objects lure us in with the transformations they could unlock. Of course, a bag is just a bag. With that dumpster Ferragamo, I was able to learn that these manufactured hopes don’t amount to much. 

No one looked at me differently when I carried the Ferragamo around. I experimented on weekends with the turquoise wonder, taking it to Starbucks and delicately placing it next to my frappucino. I didn’t dare take it with me to school, as the color was too radical. I knew I couldn’t pull it off.

The early tremors I received staring at the Ferragamo label quickly faded. I was left with a leather crumple in an unnatural color with a lot of shiny silver buckles. If I wanted to feel cool, it would take a lot more than a status symbol to hide behind. Nothing outside of myself could change the way I felt. By providing me with this bag in a color I would never take around my peers, the universe saved me from embarrassment while simultaneously killing a false idol.

It was an almost moment. My first of many. So many almosts, that convinced me (momentarily) that my life had been altered forever. 

Almosts have broken my heart. Sometimes an almost shows up, thinking they’re the real deal. It’s you that has to distinguish between real life and fantasy. You have to see the space between what you actually want and what’s being provided. You have to listen for what is calling to every fiber of your being. And not get attached to what is simply exciting for the time being. 

Gift horses have a lot in common with almosts. If the universe steps into the role of kooky aunt (which it so often does) and sends you a version that’s not quite right, you can’t toss it off without recognizing its worth. If you get angry with the distance between the perfect and its enemy the good, you’ll alienate yourself from the realm of possibility. 

The almost lives within the realm of possibility. It takes a little time to see that, but I do believe it. An almost means you’re exploring the right neighborhood. Almost was born and raised here, as was the ultimate yes. 

So if you meet an almost, you’re getting closer to meeting an ultimate yes. 

The trick is distinguishing the difference between the two. If you meet a viceroy butterfly, you may think it’s a monarch on first glance. The two are very similar, but the monarch glides, bringing its wings into a relaxed V. The viceroy flits and flutters. 

Only by knowing the difference, can we start to look for a true monarch. 

Just as Viceroys don’t have the stamina to make the long migration that Monarchs do, the almosts have a much shorter shelf life than the ultimate yes. Almosts aren’t built out with the same substance, which leads to frustration if we funnel energy and time into it. When an almost dissipates, it’s easy to fall back into frustration. But that only takes us further from the realm of possibilities. 

An almost can take any form: a relationship, work opportunity, living situation. You might get an offer that feels so close, it’s impossible to turn down. If you go through with it, you may find yourself getting upset with the details that don’t align with your best case scenario. Managing these details can be stressful, no doubt about it. But when handled with non attachment, you see they are just providing information about what you really want. 

I’ve had so many almosts, they’ve become a familiar friend. Every so often I’ll get swept away with one, but I’ve gotten better at spotting them early. When an almost shows its true form, that’s the time to act. I use the negative space around the almost to carve out a more distinct image of the ultimate yes.

My perfectionism doesn’t lend itself to this mode of thought. I want to be very good at everything I do, which requires a lot of effort and commitment. Perfectionism is usually driven by a form of fear. Perfectionism thrives on the worry that you aren’t good enough and nothing will ever be good enough. This side of me has faded a bit with the years, after I grew tired of being frozen in hesitation. The older I’ve gotten, the less energy I have to waste reaching for the horizon of perfection.

Sometimes you have to try your hand at something just to see what it is. Investigate without expectation. All while being kind to your vulnerability. Perfectionism doesn’t like experimentation because you must be open to being wrong. Perfectionism sees an almost within the binary of right and wrong. Buying into this prevents you from getting any closer. It prevents you from joyful discovery. 

My new practice is celebrating the almosts. It might seem forced to get excited about things that aren’t quite right, but it’s like encouraging a kid. If they understand half of a math concept, you don’t crumple up the paper and get upset they’re missing 50%. Instead you recognize their efforts and how far they’ve come. 

Right now, I’m pushing perfectionism to the side and acknowledging how far I’ve come. I’m taking chances and embracing the vulnerability this process demands.

I’m in the realm of almosts and the ultimate yes.
Chances are good that you’re here too. 

xx
James

p.s.
Tomorrow I’m releasing Elements of Being!!
In this collection of four meditations, we utilize foundations of the physical realm as catalysts for ascension.

It will be available on all streaming platforms, youtube included!

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