The day is winding down. I just returned from the break room at Gillware (a new blog client of mine) and the images of a Haiti disaster remind me of my word of the day.
I had asked Tyler (one of the founders at Gillware) earlier today if he had a word for the day. He didn’t. I cut him a little slack because it was still early and he had not yet finished his morning workout with me. I gave him mine instead, and as the day moved forward I felt more and more of a connection with this word and what it means to me today…
It is hard to imagine being trapped under a pile of rubble. Alive and yet unable to move out from under it’s mass. Sipping water from a bottle that someone else must hold for you. Hard to imagine what it must be like right now to live in Haiti and be faced with the challenges that exist in such a poor country, even without the aftermath of a natural disaster looming.
I happen to be working right now at a desk that’s not my own. This is sometimes difficult for me, because I’ve grown attached to my need for exact ergonomics. Twenty years in the workforce of the information age has taught me one important thing. Make sure you’re workstation fits you. Because if it doesn’t and you’re young, you can get away with it. Eventually, however, it catches up with you, and you find your back and neck aching for days in a row for no good reason.
Somehow today, with images of people trapped and other’s legs extending from beneath blankets that cover their dead body, a properly fitted workstation feels like an infantile need for a new video game. So how do I rectify this with myself and with the world around me?
I honor it.
Deep into my soul I feel not the pain that they do. This would be impossible. Instead I feel and connect with the life I am so grateful to live when I’m paying attention. Three days ago, I was fretting about my need to finish a strategic plan for my blogs and business. Though still very important, the fretting once again seems infantile, useless and in some ways pathetic.
When the foghorn sounds at the end of my work day (coming very soon), I will pack my things, fill my water bottle and drive quickly toward home, where I will embrace an evening with my precious kids, and my wife.
I will wash dishes, take out the garbage, give baths, take a shower, lay out my clothes for the next day, and brush my teeth before I go to bed with an electric toothbrush. I will do this after sipping tea and watching a Seinfeld re-run with the help of Tivo.
I will do all of this tonight void of the sense of mundane that can often infect the pleasure. The pleasure that should come from everything I have, everything I have the opportunity to discover, and everything I can do to connect with humankind in a new and more significant way.
All of this possible now, because I’ve been inspired by a little girl, trapped underneath a pile of rocks, and surviving in a state of calm that must have come from the Gods.