Last week I hopped on a train to spend a couple days with my daughter. It's rare to have that time with her so I didn't hesitate to accept the invitation.
While I was getting a few things packed my mind was on whether I should take my computer, my iPad or just my phone. Which device would give me the most options to keep my mind occupied and allow me to stay connected to email, messaging, Facebook and Twitter. We're not talking about business interactions here- or work per se. Pure distraction.
The computer won out until the last moment when I realized that along with everything else it would be too heavy to lug while walking the blocks to get to her place. I begrudgingly switched it for my iPad. No DVD's and the wifi on the train is not the best for streaming, so no videos. Damn.
As I was setting up on the train, impatiently waiting for the wifi to kick in, my mind was far from the present. And when it did connect I couldn't wait to check the boxes of all the ways I could put in the time.
This went on for about 45 minutes, until I happened to glance up and see the most beautiful church steeple reaching up into the blue sky. And it hit me. I'm going to miss this beautiful fall day as we make our way through the countryside. What a shame it would be, to have my head buried in my iPad, checking my newsfeed while the real magic was happening right outside my window.
I closed my iPad. I breathed in the life around me. A flock of seagulls taking flight from a farmer's field, countless round bales of hay dotting the freshly mown pasture. A clothesline strung with sheets flapping in the breeze. a single donkey chewing contently totally unaware and uncaring of the monster roaring past him.
I rested my eyes and mind for awhile, and let the gentle swaying of the train lull me into a comforting, peaceful repose.
Un-plugged.
What I will remember about that little trip was not about how many likes I got on a post, or unimportant emails, or videos I tried to stream. Those things are like sound bites, with no lasting content.
Life outside that window is what I'll remember. And treasure.
Namaste.
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