(N)autopilot


What was I thinking about, again?

What was I thinking about, again?

When I finally wrenched myself into consciousness, I remembered what I’d forgotten: that I had a meeting scheduled at ten in the morning and I had forty five minutes to get there. There’s nothing like adrenaline to start a day with a bang.

I’ve had more than a few of these lapses recently- small moments of inattention to details that leave me scrambling to correct myself. One day I pulled the van up to the carport and began to back in… until I realized that the car was already parked there. I never park the van in the carport and I rarely drive the car: it was like a moment of automatic-pilot for a task that has never been a habit. A few days later I completely missed my normal exit off the highway. I didn’t even realize I was close until I was past it. I’ve never missed that exit before- if I have, it was so long ago that I don’t remember it.

And today, I completely spaced out the fact that I had meetings scheduled and the first one was at ten in the morning.

For getting off to a rough start, the day proceeded without further incident. I made it to the meeting after warning the gal I was meeting that I was running late, but only ended up being three or four minutes behind schedule. I elected to drive out to my second meeting immediately afterwards even though it would get me there several hours earlier than the appointed time and, since I was in the area, stopped in to see another contact while I was at it. So all in all, a productive day.

By the time I got home I was worn out and glum. I think the glumness was from a whole day spent fueled by scones, almonds, coffee and gummy bears instead of real food, but by the time I got home I was ready to just melt onto the couch. Which I did. I Skyped with the Curmudgeonly Lion and watched four episodes of Downton Abbey until I decided it was late enough to go to bed.

In many ways I feel guilty for spending my day going about my normal life. Every time I tune into social media I’m blasted with a roar of social outrage about the recent shootings of both police officers and of men of color. The noise of it is deafening, and I feel very disingenuous for talking only about myself and the goings on in my life when such huge injustices exist in the world. I also feel very helpless in the face of it all: even if I did speak up, what could I possibly say that would effect any change? Silence feels like an act of denial: as if by not mentioning BlackLivesMatter or the shootings that I could somehow pretend that they didn’t happen. This is not my intention at all- rather, I am still struggling to take inventory of my feelings and thoughts on the matter and to find something meaningful to say about them and to find a meaningful, actionable change that I can make in my life to change the world. I cannot simply add to the static outrage.

So I hope to have something meaningful to say soon. In the meantime, I’m trying to go through my life with an increased sense of the humanity of the people around me. (Which isn’t easy when driving in LA traffic, I’ll have you know, it’s a noble effort indeed). And hopefully tomorrow I will find the insight that I am looking for.

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~ by Gwydhar Gebien on July 8, 2016.

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