Becoming self-aware?

Mindfulness without meditation?

I’ve had a couple experiences in the last month that suggest I’m actually getting my shit together. These are obviously the result of increased mindfulness on my part—paying attention to my thoughts in the moment. And yet, my daily meditation practice would be best described as “anything but.”

It shows up simply enough, most often when I least expect it, too.

I’ll be fuming mad about something and think, “I *want* to be angry right now. Just a few more minutes.” And then I get back to living.

Most recently, I found myself standing on the side the interstate in the middle of nowhere. The sun was setting, and my weekend camping plans were canceled because the new engine we’d installed just five days prior had apparently blown a seal. I found myself with the usual doubts.

“This is it. I’m done with cars.”

“If I’m not interested in cars anymore, that’s probably the end of GBXM, too.”

“WTF am I going to do, then? WTF am going to do now?”

“This stupid hobby is as damaging as it is beneficial.”

The weekend prior, when we built and installed that engine, SNAFUs like this pushed our timeline into almost triple overtime. It was awful. But I wasn’t the least bit upset. I saw the disappointments, but I simply chose to focus on solutions over sadness.

And here I was, stranded on the side of the road, contemplating the end of perhaps the most significant aspect of my life beyond my immediate family—and I was evaluating the situation dispassionately.

“We’ll get it to the shop in the morning, pull the engine, replace the rear main seal, and this will all be done and behind me within 24 hours.”

At 1AM, adding a gallon of oil to Fezzik under the streetlight after the tow truck finally dropped me off, “Ugh. I am so tired. This is bullshit, but we’ll fix it tomorrow. It’s gonna suck, doing this all over again out in the sun this time, especially on less than five hours’ sleep—but we’ll get it done and I’ll be home in time for dinner.”

I was home by 3PM.

And since I didn’t make the camping trip, I actually felt like I had an extra day that weekend.

Not bad.

Not sure what all this means, but whatever it is, I like it.

Mondays. A case of them.

Let me have your attention for a moment.

I felt the slightest disturbance in The Force on the way to work this morning, but I wrote it off.

NO BAD DAYS.

There were donuts in the office. And bagels. And fruit. And brownies.

It was going to be a banner day. And then The Mondays happened.

A whole case of them.

So you’re talking about what? You’re bitching about that sale you shot, some son of a bitch doesn’t want to buy, somebody doesn’t want what you’re selling, someone you’re trying to screw, and so forth. Let’s talk about something important.

You know what? Blake was right.

Coffee’s for closers only.

The money’s out there. If you pick it up, it’s yours. If you don’t, that’s on you.

That’s on all of us.

I’m pouring a stiff drink tonight all the same.

A 90-Minute Massage

At Poco Diablo Resort in Sedona.

We’ve basically been gritting our teeth and clenching our fists for nine months.

That chapter is over. The story continues, but that chapter is behind us.

Stepping out of the spa onto that sunny patio in Sedona, with the breeze…

It’s a new dawn. It’s a new day. It’s a new life.

(And I’m feelin’ good.)