Tag Archives: hamster wheel

My Dog Is the Reason I Keep Going

4 Comments

Life is a treadmill run. A hamster wheel sprint. Boxes to check. Items to cross out. Duties to finish. Obligations to fulfill. Appointments to schedule. Tasks to accomplish. Habits to maintain.

Commitments. Responsibilities. Itineraries. Pointless repetition without real purpose. Ceaseless pressure to be productive. A self-generated tinnitus-causing crack of a constantly snapping whip refusing to rest.

For someone with that rare combination of being both tetherless and rudderless, this modern world is an impossibly burdensome weight to manage.

Shoulders can only struggle and labor under a load of stacked resistance for so long before they start shaking.

Until you get a dog.

The realization that things were indeed darkest before the dawn feels too poetic to be fact and not fiction. But the arrival of a truly selfless soul with the primary imperative to simply love and be loved is authentic and grounded.

All the clichés, memes, and T-shirts were right all along. Who knew?

Vastly superior to humans in myriad ways, these canine companions are here to teach us more than we thought we needed to know…and to allow personal growth to take shape, regardless of how much we resist against the grain.

They are the world’s best listeners and perfect partners, armed with a finely tuned radar for our pain…and bottomless patience for our delays. They’re watching us when we think they’re asleep and waiting for every opportunity to connect. They are honest, forgiving, tolerant, loyal, hopeful, eager, dependable, and genuine.

Always up for an adventure, they jump at the chance to hop in the car and drive all day without a destination…and find delight in even the most mundane things. A simple walk is a constant cause for celebration. A special biscuit is an impossibly precious reward.

Any time together is time well spent.

You are their leader, protector, and very best friend.

Sometimes there isn’t much of a reason to keep grinding along.

Until you get a dog.

Adolescence Interrupted

Square Peg in a Sea of Circles

Leave a comment

“If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears however measured or far away.”  —Henry David Thoreau

Feeling like life never quite fits correctly, regardless of setting or circumstance, can be an exhausting existence. Navigating near misses for fear that fleeting targets offer only temporary comfort is a stamina test that turns a neighborhood dog walk into the Iditarod.

Wool sweaters don’t belong on naked summer skin, regardless of how much they’re adjusted.

The impermanence of satisfaction may be the most slippery section of the obstacle course, so we dance along the stable edges of the path, trusting the mud won’t slide beneath our feet. But it always does.

We trip and fall and stand up and clean our clothes and get back on the bike. We aren’t aware of another way, and we don’t generally have a surplus of alternative options. The hamster doesn’t abandon the wheel every time it can’t keep pace with the spin.

But the monotony of the routine realization that rainbows don’t always follow the rain can make even the sunniest skies seem heavy with projected impending clouds. The mind’s eye is 20/20, even when blinded by the truth.

If discomfort comes from the core, chasing a moving target is a circular dance where the starting and finish lines share an eerie similarity. External factors only color the periphery. The internal engine is the one that needs regular maintenance.

If you also walk through the world feeling like an alien dropped on a foreign planet without a translator, don’t despair. You are not alone.

When enough square pegs are stacked in a row, they eventually form a bridge.

Adolescence Interrupted

Regimens, Rituals, Routines, and Repetitions

Leave a comment

There is an inherent beauty in the spotless design of unbroken uniformity. A placid pond without ripples. Endless assembly line loops. Dominoes sitting stacked like obedient soldiers, primed for the fall. We marvel at the meticulousness and take comfort in the reassuring sense that we can anticipate what’s approaching, whether secretly emerging from the shadows or blatantly barreling around blind corners.

Many of the highest output producers have established deliberate methodologies to maximize efficiency and minimize waste. Even in artistic pursuits, there is normally a series of steps taken before the comfort of creativity has a chance to blossom.

History’s most revered thinkers, philosophers, and intellectuals instituted various structured systems and behaviors that allowed them the unencumbered freedom to simply ponder. When we are buried beneath the oxygen-depriving load of checklists, appointments, strain, stress, responsibilities, and distractions, our mental hard drives are too busy spinning plates to thoroughly question, dissect, or explore.

Time management and prioritization are elusive little devils that keep their pitchforks purposely pointed in my direction with far more regularity than I’d like to publicly accept. Staying lost in thoughts that do nothing but add to the tally of uncontrollable variables—drowning in a sea of projection and conjecture—exemplifies the dizzying, dehydrating hamster wheel sprinting that stands in direct opposition to productivity or a legitimate sense of accomplishment.

Find a habit, build a plan, schedule a working window, wait until inspiration strikes, and then let your mind wander free. That seemingly baffling juxtaposition is exactly the recipe required for baking the bread of ideas.

But don’t let the wander turn into maze-making. Hunt for exits and solutions, not walls and hidden cheese.

Adolescence Interrupted

Lost Ones

2 Comments

lost1

“Life seems sometimes like nothing more than a series of losses, from beginning to end. That’s the given. How you respond to those losses, what you make of what’s left, that’s the part you have to make up as you go.”  -Katharine Weber

The impossible unpredictability of our daily existence is enough to rattle the most grounded of souls. Add to that the utter lack of control we wield over the trajectory of our loved ones, and we become nothing more than walking/talking test tubes trapped in a centrifuge, forced to endure a dizzying dance of expectations, invocations, and crossed fingers.

Yet we are told that hardship and grief define character, that we must embrace the dark days to appreciate the sunrises. Nothing worth its salt is easily procured. A silver lining sits on the back of every storm cloud.

But I don’t think I’m capable of swallowing the force-fed doses of wishful thinking.

There is a chasm left when people leave and a heaping helping of affirmative visualization or positive manifestation can’t change the fact that we are all sprinting on hamster wheels built with a finite number of rotations.

My mother and I both lost a parent when we were 25. We recently talked about this odd shared life experience, and I realized that the finality of some moments never fully vacate the consciousness. Her loss was far more devastating than mine, but seeing how emotionally affected someone could be more than forty years after an incident was proof that no amount of elaborate window dressing can hide the fact that your store is sometimes empty.

The moments missed and the absent days are tough pills to swallow. We all have clocks that are counting backward, and perhaps death and loss are the brightest beacons of that reality.

So until Kurzweil cracks the code to give us a little breathing room, we’re stuck in this particular place and time. I suppose we should try to make the most of it.

Adolescence Interrupted

Sharpened Perspective

Leave a comment

Thank you for being a wonderful mother

It’s often too easy to get lost in the mundanity of daily life. The interval between turning a white noise sleep machine off and turning it on again can feel like a timeless loop of repetitive habits, vibrating on skipping needles, powered by hamster wheels.

My Groundhog Days are normally of little concern. I accept that baby steps lead to Olympian leaps, so I tackle my routine tasks and always sweat the small stuff. As a writer and proofreader, details are kind of a big deal. These are my cards, and I’m happy to play them.

But, sometimes—even when the marathon tennis sessions have beaten my body and emptied my energy reserves—I find myself squirming inside my skin for a change of pedestrian pace.

Normally, I ignore these impulses and continue punching computer keyboards in my never-ending attempt to accumulate tension headaches. But, two weeks ago, I was delivered a surprise fuel injector in the form of a fellow tennis aficionado from NY with the desert on her mind and a pro tournament in her sights.

Mom knows just when to rescue her overthinking, word wrestler of a son from his stationary bike, and exactly how to throw some excitement and a change of scenery into the mix.

It was just what the proverbial doctor ordered, and I was able to unplug and detach from the busy, serpentine track of LA life.

My chiropractor believes that the mountains in Palm Springs have a way of inexplicably extracting the stress from our bodies and, although I don’t normally subscribe to  teachings of the mystic variety, I’d have to agree with him.

So, now it’s back to work and back to that hamster wheel. But, like mainlining lemon-lime Gatorade, I feel refreshed and ready for the race ahead.

Thanks, Mom…for always knowing what I need, even when I don’t.