The Media Sage Knows...

We all know how important perspective is. This importance, of course, has given birth to the all-too-often misused cliche, "perception is reality."

A few days ago, a friend on Facebook posted something to the effect of "we live in a sick world." I didn't pursue it, but I can only imagine this was a result of something she had read online or had seen on the news. When I saw this post, it occurred to me that, metaphorically, I think we all instinctively see the computer screen as a window to the world. But it is not a window. It is a magnifying glass.

Whatever my young friend (a former student) had seen, it was a story about something horrible -- about something someone did that was awful. Maybe a "news" story about a mother killing her child or something of the kind.

It seems obvious to say that one sick story doesn't make the world a sick place. But, when we see these stories, human nature seems to be magnified, for better or worse.

The Moments After Motion: Rabbit on a Leash

The other day, I got off of the treadmill and it felt like the floor under my feet was moving. You know the feeling? Or, did you ever sit at the back of a train and watch the track moving away from you toward the vanishing point? When the train stops, it appears that the track is still  moving slowly into the distance.

In both of these cases, the temporary state of being (in this case, motion) becomes sort of absorbed by our minds and bodies. Somewhere inside, the little dudes who run the machine in our brains say, "Okay -- we're moving. This is the way it is going to be. Time to internalize and react the current situation. Flip all necessary switches." Then, when it changes (the train stops, for instance) the little guys who just sat down to rest sigh and get back up again, "Reset switches, fellows!" But it takes a little time, so, the ground feels like its moving or the tracks look like they are moving away. Just until the switches get flipped again.

Lao Tzu

Lately, I have been on the literal treadmill, as mentioned above. I have also been on the figurative treadmill: busy at work; busy at home (both sons in the thick of activities with karate and baseball); busy with music (the band had been playing a lot); busy with a million other responsibilities... But the big thing has been that I found myself putting in days that ran from 6 AM to 8:30 PM, or beyond, before I could sit and breathe.

Then, one night, baseball practice was canceled. There was no karate. Band rehearsal was called off. I came home from school at around four o'clock and had nowhere to go and nothing pressing to do.

And what happened? Mr. Solitude; Mr. Self-reflection; Mr. Creative (who never has enough time for his arts) found himself pacing around the house for a few minutes, feeling stir-crazy. Me. After all my yapping about the joys of solitude and the quest for the time enough to enjoy it, I found myself feeling like a rabbit on a leash.