Days gone by and you don’t remember much. You arrive at work and wonder who the hell has been driving. Can’t remember what you wore yesterday. It’s a mindfulness thing. “Lost in space” becomes a habit.
A bad habit.
I’m writing this because my left shoulder has been troubling. Enough so that it’s hard to pull my shirt on in my conventional way. I need to put on my shirt, uh, differently.
I don’t recall who infused in me the idea that it’s smart to occasionally shake things up. To forsake tradition and forge a different day. Little things that have become autonomic—done without much thought. Any thought. Zero.
Once it occurs to you, it’s simple. Take a different route to work. Brush your lower teeth first. Start with the other leg when you put your pants on. And—though necessary for me right now, this one’s actually pretty confusing: put your other arm into your shirtsleeve first.
Neurolinguists and practicing Buddhists know that internal chit-chat creates all sorts of problems. Artificial realities. Like “self” for instance, the biggest hoax of all. And simply because we have all that chatter going on, reliving the past or portending an imaginary future, we miss out on only real opportunity we have to affect our world … the now.
So blow the other nostril first. Start with the other shoe. It’s a whole new world out there.