As I was jogging in the morning air, it occurred to me that I was feeling the sidewalk extend out in front of me, and my feet became heavy and slow. Gosh, that hill looks like its such a long way in the distance, I puffed between gasps for air. I'm not getting "there." Then I looked down at my feet, and became re-absorbed by the rhythm of their cadence against the concrete. I was aware of the timing of my breath, the rushing of blood against my temple, and finally, saw how quickly the leaves beneath me were going by. It appeared I was speeding along nicely after-all.
How are these two perspectives valuable? Although I am a proponent of optimism, it is not always good to constantly be looking far into the future. First of all, it doesn't exist. It is a creation we have conjured to help our mortal minds plan for the 'next' thing. And because if the immediate furture's proximity, we often beat ourselves up for not 'going fast enough.'
In contrast, (although my speed is nothing compared to the cars going by, the jets whizzing overhead, or even the dizzying speed of our spinning planet,) and by looking at where I am right this minute, I see that I am moving forward, creating music with each step, discovering that I am going as fast as I am meant to go, and making progress. At the end of the day I need to refocus and not obliterate the progress I made from dawn to dusk. I have to be ever-present and full of gratitude for each step, each line in the sidewalk, and each benevolent moment I am living.
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