A Manic Monday

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

Geezus. I have no f*cking idea what to write about.

None.

I’ve spent almost the entire day staring at a blinking cursor. Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink. I have so many first paragraphs written about so many different topics that I’m thinking about contacting the Guinness people. I’m not sure if there is a record for most unfinished thoughts in a 24-hour period, but if there were…I’m certain my name would be next to it…maybe with a nice picture with my newly shorn locks. Although I’ve joked about it, perhaps the haircut I received earlier in the week zapped me of my blogging strength. I’ve struggled with my Morning Views posts previously. But not like this.

• I started a post about blogs that list the Top 10 Things You Need To Know In Order To Do Something Or Something Else. I don’t really like the list posts and I was planning on whittling all of them down to just One Thing. (Like the classic scene in “City Slickers. That’s right, I was gonna channel “City Slickers” in a post.)

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

• I started a post about my kid’s first trophy and how well he handled his achievement. It wasn’t with huge bravado, but instead with grace. He came in third and was thrilled. I’m terrible accepting any sort of compliments or recognizing any kind of achievement and I found his ability to do both with a kind of grace to be commendable. And if I had finished third? Don’t get me started.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

• I started a post about the fact that I had nothing to write about, but realized that it was just becoming an old post about Powering Through. And been there. Done that. (Though, I wrote way too much of it before thinking, Crap, I’ve done this already.)

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

• I started a post about…nevermind. The point is, I simply started quite a few posts.

Blink. Blink. Blink. Blink.

However, now that I’m well beyond 12 hours of staring at the blinking line (that effing annoying blinking line!), I realize my entire day got off track this morning when I looked at the calendar and sent a text to my friend Jeff, We leave four months from today, my brother!

In four months, we’ll be back out in the wilderness with nothing more than whatever is in our packs. In four months, we’ll be heading out on the kind of adventure that rejuvenates and sparks. We’re merely four months away from nearly 30 miles of treacherous climbs, breathtaking heights, nearly indescribable beauty…and (hopefully) no snow. But, just as re-entry into civilization after such a trip can be difficult, today I learned that the time leading up to a trek might be equally difficult.

Just as staying in the moment after the trek was impossible…it appears that staying in the moment in the months leading up to the first step on trail will be challenging and something to which I need to pay close attention.

I started A Day Well Lived in order to be aware of the little things that make each and every day special. I wanted to remind myself that I didn’t need to “climb Everest” in order to have a great day. I wanted to be aware that the only possible way to live a well lived life – the life I imagine – is to string together a long, LONG series of Days Well Lived. And now, I have this test: Can I focus on the little things while knowing this big “prize” is four months away? It has certainly made for a Manic Monday (with apologies to the Bangles and Prince, for that matter, as he wrote the song). With the exception of a lunch meeting today, my mind has been all over the place. Rudderless.

I think today was a great exercise for me, frankly. I think being knocked from my in-the-moment-center and rocked a bit (not real fond of feeling like a total loser for not being able to write a blog) is important. It’s so easy to get complacent – even about gratitude. It’s easy to just go through the motions. I often find myself feeling a little superior because I’m so hyper aware of being grateful and focusing on A Day Well Lived. And it probably comes off that way sometimes.

But today I’m reminded that I need to stay in my moment, truly, and that if I want to get to my mountain (literally in four months, or metaphorically in years), I can’t lose my focus.

I must not blink.