“When the focus becomes a focused focusing, often the result is a pungently clear oversight.”
Have you ever become so engaged in achieving a goal that you miss the opportunity for life to happen to you? Honestly, this used to happen to me a lot; spending the majority of my days writing, so wrapped up in meeting a word-count or abiding stringently to my “after writing” agenda, I neglected to appreciate both the small and momentous moments knocking at my barricaded, screened, and dead-bolted door.
For example, there were many days when my husband would arrive home from work, and I, click-click-clicking away, and without turning to meet his entrance, would whisper — very softly, of course, so as not to disturb that imperious presence whirling about my being — “I have to keep to writing or I’ll lose it.”
The Greats talk of “flow” and “the fickle muse,” modes to be attended to with the utmost respect and consideration. To write is to weave the five magical senses into prose, and so, it is the responsibility of any such possessed individual to obey and stoop obsequiously at the feet of inspiration. For if she calls, it is our duty to answer her in a timely fashion, with our whole undivided attention, putting all else aside — even our loved ones’ kisses.
You smell that? Yeah, me too; it’s a load of something stinky.
You know what doesn’t last for all of eternity? Things.
Things are great. I love things. Have lots and lots of them I enjoy and smile upon daily. I must be honest, though: not a single one them loves me back. You know what does? People. Most of us being aware of this, one would assume we would all take pains to pay more attention to those dearest to us. Baffling to me, and maybe to you, too, somehow it is the dearest of them we most often push aside, dismiss, wave away, or ignore completely.
These days I kiss my husband the moment he arrives home. No matter what is going on around me, with me, or to me, presently, nothing is so dire or important that I cannot spare a moment for the Love of my life. Upon further reflection, I realized there was so much I did not see. My peripheral malfunctioning, blind spots at every turn, I saw what I choose to see, not what was presented before me.
This is something I continue to work on daily. As such with breaking any bad habit, changing this ingrained measure requires constant practice. You know what it feels like? Like you’ve been swimming with the current for miles and miles, and then all of a sudden you decide to turn and swim against it. Not so easy. The muscles necessary to do this are weak and out of shape; everything within you shouts to go on and turn right back around to what’s effortless and natural. Easy is nice, yes, but it’s usually vacant of gratification and growth. So, we take those weak muscles and we condition them, every day. Doesn’t have to be for very long; start small, just do one thing that takes you out of what’s rote and routine.
As I head out to: pick up prescriptions at Wallgreen’s, purchase a pillow that will better support my neck, go to a doctor’s appointment, and do whatever else I might think of while I am out, I am going to do the opposite of what comes most naturally. I might dally. Perhaps I’ll chat with the pharmacist, or call up a girlfriend just to say hello.
Time is not our friend. He controls and hurries, sucks and drains, frustrates and beguiles. We are not to be his prisoners. Certainly there are things that must be done, we all understand this gross necessity of life. Plans must be broken occasionally, opportunities lost to this-and-that, but we must be vigilant . . . if we are not careful, time will succeed in stealing us, rather than us stealing time.
Stretch your eyes today. Make an effort to see what is not directly in front of you. Fight the urge to “get on with it,” and force yourself to slow down and take notice.
Praying this day meets you with surprises and blessings that delight and spellbound.