Today—I mean, yesterday—I made myself go to the fitness center on the first floor of my workplace and put in an hour on the stationary bike and the elliptical trainer. I had already put in a full day of work, plus an hour of online training, so I told myself I could not let myself slide another day without getting some exercise.
Or I could keep going down to the basement garage and drive off to restorative yoga class and chill out. But I would probably talk myself out of restorative because I should really get my prana flowing.
So getting out of the elevator, I turned left, walked down a long corridor and ended up in the fitness room., watching the depressing news on CNN about Isreal/Palestina and Ukraine and… I worked up a sweat and did not attempt to read or listen to music.
Then, I got home, had dinner and found myself sitting in front of the TV, sucked into watching Frontline: Endgame about our wrongheaded adventures in Iraq over the past decade. I wanted to go upstairs to do something productive, or meditate, or do some restorative yoga, or my pranayama, or my bedtime sequence of tension releasing stretches.
But I sat there paralyzed by the sheer gravity of America’s involvement in Iraq and the scars that it’s left on our men, this country and the Middle East. And in my small way, I had survived that tragedy.
I finally climbed the stairs, sat in my study, and started office busy-work. Midnight and I started writing this blog. What can I write about?
I did not go to my yoga class today. I did put in an hour of aerobic training. I made appointments to get new glasses and check my teeth. I did put in a productive day at the office, turning another professional’s tortured technical prose into something that made sense. I did not discover any shining truth in my journey. I did not fuck up the world in any traumatic way. For most humans, that daily entry in life’s ledger would yield a profit.
Amen. Shalom. As-salamu alaykum. Namaste. Hallelujah!