There’s something about driving long distances that makes me learn more about myself. As the previous destination fades in the rear view mirror, minor attractions ask me to get off the road. But there’s a lure about wanting to get close enough to the future destination, that I throw all my focus in that direction, forgetting the trivialities along the way.
Sometimes though, where you end up, is not quite where you originally had in mind. In the day of modern technology, over reliance on a computerized voice and someone’s programming, we blindly follow the direction of the voice and the screen, over our own instinct. Those pieces of ourselves are not honed, and, we find ourselves saying things like “well I know I can see it to the left, but the gps is telling me to go right; maybe that’s a one way, and I don’t know it.”
Maybe the GPS has it wrong.
Maybe our skillset is weak and not strong. Maybe, like skilled warriors fed a steady diet of high fat carbs and low exercise, our intuition has become as sharp as silly putty and as useful as a broken chair. What happened to the focus of the original destination? And what about all the attractions we didn’t stop at, to get to the place we still haven’t reached? What does one DO with all that?
I suppose each person has a different answer. For me, a person who takes great pleasure in surmising, daydreaming and fantasizing how awesome the goal will be once achieved, I take a time out. Re-evaluate where I stand, versus where I said I wanted to be. Sometimes, I play out the decisions that seem wrong, now, like a chant, and I find all the ones that look like that one. All the places I could’ve turned the GPS off. And if I’m lucky, there are a slew of decisions that counter the chant. By that point, I’ve pinned myself square in the corner of inactivity. The scale is balanced and both ways seem right. I take a word from my mentor – don’t move until you have peace with the next direction.
So tea glass bottom’s up to those who wait; those who pause; those who are pensive and observant. “I’ll holla…”