Minds are full of possibilities. What if? How about? When, if not now? Why not? Once upon a time? Could I? Would I? Should I?
Ready, set, go? Am I ready? Is anyone ever ready? What does it mean to be ready? Who am I to say?
This is the day. How do I know?
Why not? I keep coming back to why not. There is no clear answer. How about the opposite question — Why? and why now?
The battle is on. Rise from the couch! Stay where you are! Just get started! Finish what you began! Hesitate no more! or just for a little while longer. I wonder what’s on TV now.
Is this the life of quiet desperation that Thoreau talked about? Or was Thoreau full of sh*t? Was he just an imposter with pretty words? Lord knows that’s what I am. Hasn’t everyone noticed by now?
We are all imposters, faking it until we make it. That’s the little secret no one wants to say out loud. I imagine the star who falls from his perch has a sense of relief: “Everyone saw who I really am, and I survived. I don’t have to pretend anymore. It’s not all that bad, come to think of it.”
It’s just after 5 a.m., and I see 16 waking hours ahead. In this first hour I see all of the possibilities, the must-dos and the maybes, and a touch of anxiety — the many ways I could waste this precious gift of time.
The light from the screen threatens to mesmerize me, as it has done so many times before. A weariness settles over me — no, not now, not again, no more wasting time. This is the day the Lord has made, rejoice, be glad.
It is the time of year when we wake before dawn, we denizens of the 5 o’clock hour. We must make our own light while we wait for the Earth to turn our spot toward the sun. Objects on the other side of the window slowly begin to become visible while we churn our minds and ready our bodies for the light.
Sixteen hours of waking over the next 24 — the challenge is how to fill them: precious minutes and hours, love to be shared, work to be done, a day to shape or be shaped.
I like where my mind goes when I choose to come here, to this journal, before I face the mesmerizing light — not the sunlight, of course, but the artificial light that connects me to “real life.” But is that the real life or just fantasy? There is the question. Here is this moment, scribbling words on a blank page, letting sleeping dogs lie. I feel connected to my self. What I do with that connection defines me, if not to others, then to myself.
For a few precious minutes, I remember who I am. I’m not entirely thrilled about this guy, but generally I like me and I’m grateful for my gifts. Gifts are meant to be used and shared, and so off I go, even if I’m still not entirely sure of my destination.
Could that be the key? Instead of driving hither and yon, should I settle on a destination? Should I? Could I? or several destinations so I don’t get bored — stops along the way — and a plan for the next trip after that — but don’t get sidetracked — but what if the tangent proves to be the real destination?
You see my dilemma, don’t you? Am I simply a victim of attention deficit disorder? No, I am no victim, and how dare you call it a disorder to see all the wonder about me and want to take it all in — all of it? My attention does bounce here and there, but what makes that a problem? There are billions, probably trillions of things to see in this world in one lifetime — billions, probably trillions of ways to make a difference. I can see and do them all — or can I?
