Jan 2019
Oh, how I wish I had a reliable Internal Guidance System.
You know, like a GPS, but one that never loses service during cloudy weather or runs out of battery power?
Instead, my on-board navigation system frequently leaves me hanging.
Where am I? What am I doing? … What am I supposed to be doing?
It’s like my guidance computer got knocked out, kind of like the one on the ill-fated Apollo 13 spacecraft.
Which brings up another thing. …
Just like in “Apollo 13,” the movie, I wish I had this team of really smart guys, all wearing white shirts, black ties and 1970s horn-rimmed glasses, feverishly sliding beads on their abacuses*, checking my calculations for me, letting me know if the answer I’m considering is sound. “Looks good, Flight!” Thumbs up!
Instead, it’s like I’m endlessly pulling the handle on a Vegas slot machine, watching for a solution to line up.
Directions. The Right Decisions.
It’s not that I don’t have any ideas. Gosh knows, I’m always looking for clues and signs.
Astrology. Organized religion. The Wall Street Journal. Oprah Magazine.
I’ve sought counsel from them all. And found some temporal landing lights.
Sometimes I’m moved to act boldly. Make a change! Write that letter! Start something new.
But inevitably the runway gets mighty foggy all over again.
I waiver. I waffle. And I wonder … what now?
Come on, GPS! I need you to kick in here.
I’m tired of trying to read the tea leaves.
Could you just lock and load my coordinates and let me settle into some journey that makes sense and feels right … that takes me where I’m meant to be?
Oh, wait a second. Is that you, GPS? What’s that you said?
Oh, “Recalculating.” Right. Got it. I’ve heard that before.
Come to think of it, it’s the answer I was expecting.
And I know it’s going to come up many more times as I navigate my life.
I wait. I hear. I listen. I learn. I hope. I live.
You know, like a GPS, but one that never loses service during cloudy weather or runs out of battery power?
Instead, my on-board navigation system frequently leaves me hanging.
Where am I? What am I doing? … What am I supposed to be doing?
It’s like my guidance computer got knocked out, kind of like the one on the ill-fated Apollo 13 spacecraft.
Which brings up another thing. …
Just like in “Apollo 13,” the movie, I wish I had this team of really smart guys, all wearing white shirts, black ties and 1970s horn-rimmed glasses, feverishly sliding beads on their abacuses*, checking my calculations for me, letting me know if the answer I’m considering is sound. “Looks good, Flight!” Thumbs up!
Instead, it’s like I’m endlessly pulling the handle on a Vegas slot machine, watching for a solution to line up.
Directions. The Right Decisions.
It’s not that I don’t have any ideas. Gosh knows, I’m always looking for clues and signs.
Astrology. Organized religion. The Wall Street Journal. Oprah Magazine.
I’ve sought counsel from them all. And found some temporal landing lights.
Sometimes I’m moved to act boldly. Make a change! Write that letter! Start something new.
But inevitably the runway gets mighty foggy all over again.
I waiver. I waffle. And I wonder … what now?
Come on, GPS! I need you to kick in here.
I’m tired of trying to read the tea leaves.
Could you just lock and load my coordinates and let me settle into some journey that makes sense and feels right … that takes me where I’m meant to be?
Oh, wait a second. Is that you, GPS? What’s that you said?
Oh, “Recalculating.” Right. Got it. I’ve heard that before.
Come to think of it, it’s the answer I was expecting.
And I know it’s going to come up many more times as I navigate my life.
I wait. I hear. I listen. I learn. I hope. I live.
*or is it abaci?
