A historical election took place last night, and I, like many, are hungover. My drowsiness is from less than seven hours of sleep though, not cheap vodka. Maybe that extra set of back squats I did yesterday that made my face turn purple has something to do with it too.
Things must get done today despite the improbable win last night that shook the globe. Words must get typed. Traffic must be dealt with. Fires must be put out. Phone calls must be made. Dishes must be washed. Flights must touchdown. Silence must be practiced. Clothes must be dried. Oil must be changed. Emails must be sent. Weights must be lifted. Contracts must be closed. Dinner must be served. Meetings must be held. Smiles must be exchanged. Kisses must be felt. Pain must be absorbed. Joy must be sought.
The moment we stray from the meat-and-potatoes of our days, we create a tension between two places - how things actually are and how we would like things to be.
Being heaved into the world that honors how skillfully we can split our attention, this is something like trying to take a vitamin as a young kid. We'd rather do anything than risk our life trying to swallow a pill the size of a dime.
And so we digress. But the question is, towards what?
It seems that this only turns us into intelligent machines obsessed with materialistic frenzy. Only woken by tsunami-sized stimulation, we miss a lot along the way. We risk stumbling past the repetitions of life. It turns out however, that life is but a series of seemingly mundane repetitions only sprinkled with a few home-run moments and the occasional strike out.
Babies and old people tend to have a better pulse on this lesson. They find joy in a yellow fire hydrant or from a phone call on Tuesday at 3:44 P.M.
Thankfully, the straying is not what is important - it is the return that matters.