It's nearing the end of the work day and I'm in my kitchen.
I'm shoving some food in my face before running to the bathroom and heading back to my desk to wrap up a few more things. Some days, that's just how it goes. I've historically had a habit of taking on too much and trying to squeeze too much in, which I'm working on. I'm so much better than I used to be; like SO much. Still, I'm very aware that my current scarf-n-scoot afternoon snack scramble isn't ideal.
I'm already thinking about the next email I'm going to tackle as I'm moving toward the sink. I like the layout of my kitchen. Particularly, I like the window above my sink. I'm a few houses in on the block, so this window just happens to be perfectly positioned in such a way that I can see between a few houses and through to the soccer fields across the street.
A minute ago, I'd been moving fast.
It hadn't felt frantic, either. It was more like a flow of getting shit done.
Now, though, I'm standing at the sink and watching this dad play soccer with his son. I'm guessing the kid's maybe eight or 10 years old, tops. It's Friday afternoon and they're the only ones out there. Dad's taking shots on goal, in what appear to be flip flops, while his son defends. They're in no hurry. Sometimes, I even see them out there early in the mornings before school, with a couple other kids and some dogs. They never seem to be in a hurry then, either.
I'd been moving fast, feeling good about all I was getting done.
Now, though, I'm still standing in my kitchen wondering why.
When's the last time something made you down-shift without even realizing you'd been in high-gear?
onward.
For more on this daily column and The MAP Year Project, read the backstory here. And if you know someone who'd appreciate this, pass it along.