Complaints from a Weary Fellow Traveler
Deep in January the sun doesn't rise early enough for me and the night arrives way too early. The landscape without snow is damp and dreary and bleak. The bare trees split the predawn sky and I am gloomy. So I channel Julie Andrews in The Sound of Music and start to think of my favorite things.
My hot coffee in a travel mug,
Brahms or Bach or Beethoven playing on my favorite radio station,
My family-all healthy and happy and safe,
My students who come to school ready to learn, and
Yoga-for all it has taught me about being grateful and in the moment.
I begin to feel better, but still there is a nagging sense of discontent, a moodiness that lurks underneath. As I drive on my usual route, I spot the man that I have seen many times over the years.
He crosses the street with abandon, physically disabled he uses crutches to make his way over to where the bus stop is. He too is on his way to work in the early morning. His struggle just to cross the street causes me to stop my rumination. His long legs twitch and spasm as he struggles to send them in the right direction. What I appreciate most about this man is his moxie. He crosses the street where it is convenient for him-straight across the street disregarding the crosswalks or the traffic signals. He is a man with a mission and the traffic be damned!
What is my take away from watching this man for 15 seconds as I wait for the light to change?
My life is great, I don't struggle physically to get to work and so I should stop whining and be grateful.
As I drive by the silhouette of the man I am happy and content. That is until an idiot cuts me off and I am mad again.