What We Take for Granted

I'm so irritated with you, and with myself. With all of us, really.

We're drowning in an embarrassment of riches and feeling little beyond the ennui that comes with it.

I wonder what would happen if we truly stripped it all down to only what was actually needed.

I wonder how long it would take before we longed for the very things we now take for granted.
The computer or phone.
(Hell, the internet itself.)
All the music, books, videos, learning.
The myriad tiny things we surround ourselves with to stay entertained, busy, engaged in anything beyond the present moment.

I wonder how long beyond that it would take before we could settle - and feel enlivened by the breeze…
… against our skin
… through the trees
… sending that leaf skittering across the grass.

Or notice how the sun…
… turns everything gold and red behind closed eyelids
… warms the lizard lounging on the rocks
… gets filtered by clouds as it moves across the landscape.

But not now.

Now we need more and more of - I don't know, something - just to feel the slightest lift in what's otherwise a Groundhog Day existence.

The picture a friend shares, the one with the power to stir the soul if we were actually with it for more than half a second, barely breaks the surface of our awareness. We move on, at what now passes for a normal pace. Unaware. Unfulfilled. Emptier by the day, never sure why.

So we take the vitamins. We force the workouts. We skip the little desserts that bring such delight. We tell ourselves this is just how it is, put our heads down, and push through another day - while our insides wither and retreat.

But I wonder… what if we let one tiny thing land. Consciously. The way one might allow a square of dark chocolate to melt in the mouth.