Patience. Sitting still. Living in the moment.
Today I could feel my gut tightening; jaws clenching. I was impatient. On Monday morning we experienced technical issues at work and quickly realized; we are incapacitated without our front desk computer. The busy-ness at the business came to a stand still as the hard drive sputtered. The screen went dark as numbers (kernels) furiously spewed forth and black screens slowly changed in a continuous loop. We could not even view our hard drive through safe mode.
For the second day, I sat. I exhausted various apps on my smartphone, read an e-book excerpt and quickly completed non-work related paperwork. I thought of the various projects I could be doing; time was being wasted as I fumed. Some of my biggest pet peeves revolve around the clock: not arriving on time, people consistently late, wasted time.
When I was given Gardner’s multiple intelligences test, I was surprised my modality of learning was bodily-kinesthetic. I assumed I learned best either, linguistically (words and language) or musically (music and sound). But no; I need movement. I needed to be on the go; doing something. Acts of services and “works” are my modus operandi. Time was, once again, getting away from me and my lack of productivity was pissing me off!
It took a lot of restraint, on my part, to not take out my frustration at home. My mind began to wander as I thought of ways I calmed myself down and, funnily enough, the one thing that brings me back my sanity is cleaning my toilet bowl. Whenever Dave was to leave on a trip or deploy I would launch into a cleaning frenzy. It made me feel like I had some control over life. And the a-ha moment flashed before me. My current uber-organizing quest is because I feel like life is getting away from me. I am driven by the clock.
As I sorted through my computer picture folders I fell upon the ones above, taken this summer while camping in northern California. The sky and time were endless and, for seven days, I watched my sons lazily float downstream. Don’t they get bored doing it day after day? Why won’t they climb rocks or go hiking? I snapped my pictures, behind the camera lens, thinking these thoughts. I came upon the picture of Snuggles, our dog, and myself taking a picture through the rear view mirror of the scenery flying by.
I am always cataloging my life through the lens. I try to freeze it in time; but am I really living in that moment? Can I say that I’m living in life or am I a detached observer creating the memory I want someone else to see? Can I slow it down, camera in its case, and be an active participant? And do I have to do it, hitting the pavement, running?
Time will tell.