Last week I treated myself to lunch away from the office. Allow me to repeat myself. Lunch. Away. From. The. Office. I abandoned my big stack of file folders and unfinished documents and set out in search of a place to sit down and enjoy the midday meal I usually scarf down at my desk. There is so much going on in my organization right now – new initiatives, onboarding a new hire, implementing new fundraising campaigns – and it’s all just a bit much for my little brain to handle. It’s times like these that are very exciting in the growth cycle of a nonprofit, but that can be very stressful for the staff that are racing to catch up in terms of capacity and energy. How hard it is to lead from the within the madness. But instead of hunkering down and getting overwhelmed and burned the hell out, I realized that now is the time for me to remember to take in deep breaths of the cool fall air and exhale already. I’m reminded by my grandmother’s words: you can’t take care of anyone else if you don’t take care of yourself first. I have to keep in mind how important it is to take care of myself in the midst of the flurry. The day is still only so long, and I’m just not committing myself to staying at work all night just because my nonprofit is moving a mile a minute. I was seeking some clarity with a side of vision when I ended up at an Indian buffet for lunch a few blocks away.
I was greeted at the door by a pair of immaculately clad waiters, who quickly guided me to a cozy table in the corner of the restaurant. Before me lay an inviting spread of butter chicken, lentil dal, steaming basmati rice, aloo gobhi (spiced potatoes and cauliflower), and warm stacks of naan. But before I could get up to grab my grub, a waiter comes by to ask me what I wanted to drink. “Just water,” I begin to reply. “No,” he says, smiling, but shaking his head. “I know just what you need. Let me bring you some masala tea.” I had never heard of masala tea, but I was feeling adventurous and obliged. He brings me a small kettle and a tea cup, pouring up to the brim. He stands there, still smiling, waiting for me to take a sip. It was warm and sweet and spicy, with a tinge of cinnamon and cream. Like something my grandmother would fix in the middle of the night to comfort me after a bad dream. The waiter is smiling, and now I am smiling, and for the first time in a long time during the workday, I exhale.
