I might be thought of as a “Lunch Professional.” How I can make this claim is that I actually appeared on the front page of a small town newspaper eating lunch. I was sitting along a river, sitting in the sun, reading a book, and eating pizza. And low and behold, a person from the newspaper is asking if he could take my picture.
I have eaten lunch on top of mountains. Looking over the Hollywood Hills. Looking over the Mississippi. Looking over the Rock River Valley. And sitting in a park in a snowstorm. I have many fond memories of the places I have consumed lunch. So today, it struck me as odd that what I was looking over was not some wonderful vista of the world, but a parking lot and a defunct strip mall.
My how the mighty have fallen!
It was a beautiful day out so I decided to sit outside and eat, but I was not in a situation where I could travel to see something wonderful. I kind of got a little down thinking that the parking lot is a good metaphor for my life: A large expanse of flatness with various obstacles sitting unmoving. Things are happening around the parking lot, but not much is happening on the parking lot.
I started thinking of all the wonderful places I have eaten lunch. I had lunch on a peak called Golgotha (11,200 ft) in Rocky Mountain National Park. I have been sitting in the courtyard of the Getty Museum, chatting with my cousin and overlooking L.A. Even just watching the snow fall around me during one of those rare snowstorms in Columbus, OH. I wanted to be just about anywhere other than sitting on a wall, looking over the parking lot.
But the parking lot is where I was. All the dreaming and complaining was not going to place me anywhere else. So I started to look at what was going on around me. There was a kind of cute guy taking stuff off of the roof across the street. There was a helicopter taking off from the hospital. There were a couple of people walking in the sun on their lunch break. There were things happening. They were not big, breathtaking things. They were the daily miracles of our daily life.
I’ve got to keep my eyes open for the daily miracles. It is too easy to forget the daily miracles. It is depressing when we forget the little wonders of life. I’ve got to remember what our friends in recovery would say, I need to cultivate an “Attitude of Gratitude!’
The message of your post reminds me of a fairly common property of great art and artists. Most great art does not seem to be about grandiose events or people but rather it is the insightful presentation of the artist of what would otherwise be mundane. You did not see for us a picture of a parking lot, but rather a canvas of life.
If we look down, all we see is the blacktop of the parking lot. When we look upward and outward that is when we see the miracles and motion of life. What a metaphor -- as they say in the rah rah rah churches -- that will preach. AND on top of it all, you had a beautiful day for it -- not cold, no snow or rain, etc. What more could one ask in Mid November in Michigan
your writing is getting better and better!
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