Sunsets and Spreadsheets
I should have taken the few minutes to watch the soundless symphony of color unfold before my eyes. Gray cotton-candy clouds hugged the mountain range and billowed across the sky. A slowly setting sun fingerpainted the horizon in shimmering shades of gold, orange, lavender and velvet-blue.
I should have stopped. But I didn’t. More urgent matters demanded my attention. The fate of life on earth depended on finding the misplaced stack of paperwork. The symphony, I told myself, would be there when I returned.
You’d think I’d know better. As soon as I opened my office door, two other items of critical importance captured my attention. I forgot all about the sunset until I raced along the same glass-enclosed passageway 30 minutes later. When I glanced toward the horizon, I stopped short. The mountains had disappeared. Vibrant colors had mutated to black and invisible clouds obscured even a hint of stars in the distance.
Somehow preserving life on earth wasn’t worth what I missed that evening.
Sunsets are not the only things I’ve missed over the years in my frenzied rush through life’s passageways. One crisis or another -- more often perceived than real -- has robbed me of more time with those who are important to me than I care to remember. My wife, kids, parents -- even God -- too often fell into the “will-get-to-it-later” category while I ensured earth turned on its axis.
No one has to tell me what I missed is not worth what I gained. If I could do it over, I’d give it all back: awards, popularity among my peers, money, zealous dedication to my employers.
But I can’t give it back. Those calendar pages fell long ago into the cavern of the past.
It’s taken a few decades (I’m a really slow learner), but I’m beginning to learn life on earth can progress quite well without me. And far from being a thorn to my ego, that knowledge is surprisingly liberating. It means it’s alright to close the spreadsheet and take my wife for a walk. It’s OK to turn the telephone off and play chess with my son. It’s good to push my keyboard aside and spend time with God. And it won’t hurt a thing if I stop in the hallway at work to watch the sunset.
I don’t know how many calendar pages I have left. But I don’t want to waste any more of them earning awards, money or praise at the expense of what really matters.
Rich
RNmaffeo@aol.com
I should have stopped. But I didn’t. More urgent matters demanded my attention. The fate of life on earth depended on finding the misplaced stack of paperwork. The symphony, I told myself, would be there when I returned.
You’d think I’d know better. As soon as I opened my office door, two other items of critical importance captured my attention. I forgot all about the sunset until I raced along the same glass-enclosed passageway 30 minutes later. When I glanced toward the horizon, I stopped short. The mountains had disappeared. Vibrant colors had mutated to black and invisible clouds obscured even a hint of stars in the distance.
Somehow preserving life on earth wasn’t worth what I missed that evening.
Sunsets are not the only things I’ve missed over the years in my frenzied rush through life’s passageways. One crisis or another -- more often perceived than real -- has robbed me of more time with those who are important to me than I care to remember. My wife, kids, parents -- even God -- too often fell into the “will-get-to-it-later” category while I ensured earth turned on its axis.
No one has to tell me what I missed is not worth what I gained. If I could do it over, I’d give it all back: awards, popularity among my peers, money, zealous dedication to my employers.
But I can’t give it back. Those calendar pages fell long ago into the cavern of the past.
It’s taken a few decades (I’m a really slow learner), but I’m beginning to learn life on earth can progress quite well without me. And far from being a thorn to my ego, that knowledge is surprisingly liberating. It means it’s alright to close the spreadsheet and take my wife for a walk. It’s OK to turn the telephone off and play chess with my son. It’s good to push my keyboard aside and spend time with God. And it won’t hurt a thing if I stop in the hallway at work to watch the sunset.
I don’t know how many calendar pages I have left. But I don’t want to waste any more of them earning awards, money or praise at the expense of what really matters.
Rich
RNmaffeo@aol.com
posted by rich at
9:25 AM
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