It stands to reason, that if someone doesn't look like they are doing something, they aren't, and can be spoken to at will. This is the reason for the current dearth of philosophers. That, and cute cat videos on the internet.
Without boredom, can there be true creativity? Without silence, deep thought? Where can there be true peace, away from the babble and annoyance and...
I'm writing with my tongue firmly in my cheek, of course. It's just that sometimes I feel like my head is too full to shape a coherent essay. And that, of course, is both what I wanted to do, and the spark of what I'm currently writing. Sometimes, you have to just begin if you want to accomplish. Fuming over interruptions, or a dog on a path clearly marked 'no pets', is not going to achieve anything. Behold, my field of f*&ks, and it is barren. Learn to not give a damn, and suddenly you'll be able to move forward without your self-chosen anchors that were holding you back.
I realize it's not always easy to let things go. Let the stream flow around you and keep looking serene. I struggle with this all too often. It's difficult not to be ragey when people drive like idiots... really. Who is handing out driver's licenses and why don't we have pop quizzes on the spot when the cop sees someone who obviously ran a ringer through the test in their place? But if I catch myself fussing mentally over the doofus who has decided to lock up the whole parking lot just because maybe she'll be able to park one space closer to the door of the store? Even if I could give her a piece of my mind, I wouldn't. I need it, and it won't do her any good. Insufficient material there to be supplemented to functionality.
And with that, I was able to reach over, grab my water bottle, take a drink, and a few minutes later when she finally gave it up and moved, so the rest of us could get where we needed to be, I was already musing on what needs to go into the story I'm working on. That, is a useful mental endeavour. Far more so than wondering just how far down the backside of the bell curve people can slide, and still manage to live.
At home, while I'm trying to gather my thoughts and everyone wants to talk to me or get my attention, I try to remember that snapping will hurt and confuse my loved ones. All too soon, the house will be silent and I will have no pleasant distractions... So I set aside what I was trying to work on and give the only gift I truly can... my attention.
Pay attention to what really matters. It's not the prickly things that jab us and get us riled up. No, it's deeper than that, quieter, and sometimes I have to be reminded that there's another level. One that needs my time given to it, to nurture and feed the love and bonds that exist on that plane where we're held together. The ties that bind. Unwound, what becomes of us? We spin off into the void of loneliness, undone.
So I'll listen, and lock eyes with these precious humans, instead of a screen or a page. The season of giving never truly ends. It just changes shape and submerges again beneath the surface of daily routines.