…or where it shouldn’t be.

The attention should be on the absence of the kind of stupidity I described in Where’s The Outrage, not on the pervasiveness of it, because that kind of attention merely prolongs the situation.

I know this, and that’s one of the things that I need to improve in my own thinking processes.

So, that’s the answer

UPDATE:

Google’s even telling me I messed up! Ads for creating your own memorial web site, bereavement counselling — what did I unleash here? LOL!

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” the old saying goes. “Stop and smell the roses,” says another one.

All the time, everywhere I go, all the people I see, everyone seems to be in a hurry–me included. Hurry up, hurry up. Get there, do your thing, and hurry on to the next thing. Rush rush rush.

Oh, and the freeway–how many people do you know that can drive in rush hour and not get frustrated?

It’s killing me, this rushing-around thing. Faster, ever faster. I want to get off the merry-go-round. Who’s keeping me on it, anyway? Only me.

Time is too important to be rushing around all the time, colliding with this and that, being a human pinball.

So for the next few days, until it becomes a habit, my mantra is going to be, “SLOW DOWN”. Drive leisurely (sometimes — I like driving fast), take time with lunch and dinner, lose the franticness that has invaded my life, notice the things that show up–pay attention. I’ve missed too many of the little pleasures that make life enjoyable.

I know most of you know this. I did too. But I lost it somewhere along the way, and now I’ve rediscovered it.

Stop and smell the roses. What a concept.

It’s always a challenge for me to live now. To enjoy what’s here. It seems I’m always looking ahead to later. Christine Kane reminded me in Why Your Ego Loves Airline Delay (unintentionally, I’m sure, but who knows?) to do what Mac Davis advised so many years ago: stop and smell the roses along the way. I could see myself in her description of what she observed when her plane was delayed:

I paid attention to the people around me as we de-planed. I listened to what they were saying. I heard the following words and phrases: “Well, this day is ruined.” “They’ve screwed me out of an entire day.” “Ridiculous.” “I hate small planes.” “I hate Charlotte Airport.” “Ridiculous!” “This sucks.” “Five f-ing hours!” “I should’ve just gone to Chicago.” “Ridiculous.”

Reading it reminded me of a story I read in Dr. Wayne Dyer’s book, The Power of Intention:

Two prime ministers are sitting in a room discussing affairs of state. Suddenly a man bursts in, apoplectic with fury, shouting and stamping and banging his fist on the desk. The resident prime minister admonishes him: “Peter,” he says, “kindly remember Rule Number 6,” whereupon Peter is instantly restored to complete calm, apologizes, and withdraws. The politicians return to their conversation, only to be interupted yet again twenty minutes later by an hysterical woman gesticulating wildly, her hair flying. Again the intruder is greeted with the words: “Marie, please remember Rule Number 6.” Complete calm descends once more, and she too withdraws with a bow and an apology. When the scene is repeated for a third time, the visiting prime minister addresses his colleague: “My dear friend, I’ve seen many things in my life, but never anything as remarkable as this. Would you be willing to share with me the secret of Rule Number 6?” “Very simple,” replies the resident prime minister. “Rule Number 6 is ‘Don’t take yourself so damn seriously.’” “Ah,” says his visitor, “that is a fine rule.” After a moment of pondering, he inquires, “And what, may I ask, are the other rules?”
“There aren’t any.”

Stop taking myself so seriously. When I do that, my day seems to go a little better. Why don’t I do it more often? Like all the time? Something to work a little more on, maybe?