If you are anything like the rest of us it often feels like you’re always on the go. What strikes me as interesting today is how much we rush past in order to get where we’re going. This may be true not only in our daily schedule, but in the larger picture of life as well. It’s all about the hurry, about getting places on time, about being a success or checking items off of our "to do" lists. Can’t stop to watch the sunset or we’ll be late for dinner. Can’t attend the kids games or recitals, or whatever, because work is too pressing. Even on vacation, we drive right past all sorts of amazing places in order to arrive on time at the one where we have reservations. We have become too destination driven. Get up, get ready, get going, get there, get done, get home, get to bed, get to sleep, get up again. Not much margin for stopping to smell the roses in the middle of all those gets. Today’s poem reflects on a time last summer when I actually got off the treadmill for a few hours and simply lived. As I think back on the most meaningful moments of my busy life, the vast majority of them came as the result of my being someplace quiet and beautiful with people I cared about and stopping to take it all in. Ants and bees are perfectly capable of working all day and getting a lot done. As human beings, however, we have the privilege of being able to stop, hold someone’s hand, watch the sunset and contentedly utter things like, "Thank you, God, for this amazing day and the opportunity of just being here to enjoy it." That is living, and living abundantly. Don’t let life get so busy that you forget to live ... and there’s still plenty of time to begin today.
Smooth Sailing
Sometimes I’m just too busy
To enjoy the quiet things
To savor days of slower pace
Or know the peace it brings
Yet, tonight I went out sailing
By myself, without much breeze
I wasn’t getting much of anywhere
But merely basking in the ease
I relaxed, watched the sunset
From the start until the end
Observed the evening falling
And called the quiet friend
Oh, I could fire up the engine
And rush most anywhere
But I had no obligations
And chose to drift without a care
Just a quiet evening
Gentle breeze, a glassy sea
And one contented sailor thinking
There’s nowhere he’d rather be
By Frank Carpenter ©
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1 comments:
Frank, you make a point and a pretty good poet. I know I can get trapped in the snare of being everywhere and doing everything, but please don't pick on my to-do list, I am an INTJ, I need that list. Thanks.
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