Mindset: Hmmm. I want to say "growth" because it's the concept of a Huberman podcast I started earlier today, but I think I will go with "reflective" instead. As I sit in Starbucks with Taylor Swift's "Nothing New" followed by "Back to December" blasting overhead while being drowned out by patrons and staff singing along, I feel old, yet new. Obsolete, yet foundational. Insignificant, yet essential. The narrative of this music echoes the creative outlook of youth, the kind of storytelling I correlate to "Thunder Road" or "Right Here." Perhaps just as my father's generation might have felt Roger Miller or Woodie Guthrie conveyed their life experience. It's as if I am watching a life-cycle play out from the outside, knowing I already had my turn. Looking over my shoulder, I see my mom watching me from where she is, feeling a similar association with the passing of a more finite amount of time. It's hard not to feel sad about the impending loss of this awareness, this experience and this identity. Am I only this, or more? My inclination of late has been to narrow, not expand, the circle of influences while I work in greater isolation on taking it all to a place of broader exposure. I don't have space to fill or allow. This is a change from a prior tendency to relate my self-worth to my availability for others. Could I be gaining the confidence to put myself first, at last? I believe so. As is my tendency to get lost in the very limited space that is "here, now." All while Scottie sits in the Petco next door, awaiting or already in the process of his grooming appointment. He wasn't happy about being left. It's never easy. It's gotten worse over the years. After I pick him up and return him to Jen, all will be right again. The rest of the day is open to address a few goals, hopefully. But there might be a leak issue at home, which also tests my resolve to not react to moments as permanent, when they're passing. What the leak issue might be will be resolved in whatever way necessary. Getting stressed or even frustrated about it, as if it's a personal slight, is an absurd waste of time.
