Sometimes what’s truly important may not feel like it in the moment.
This morning I sat on my couch stitching up the many holes in my projects before I had to get ready for work. The clock felt like it was shedding five minutes with each blink. In the rapidly evaporating free moments of the morning I was doing my best to check off one box after another, leading me closer to the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow of accomplishment.
In the midst of it all was my doe-eyed chihuahua, using her ever-so endearing gaze to will me to grant her egress to the couch. She would march back and forth looking for the opening in the cordon of laptop stands that was blocking her way, stopping to paw at my knee periodically. I felt a sliver of impatience slide under my skin, having to stop my train of thought and break from my focus to appease the demands of a very small dog.
Nonetheless, I made way for the chihuahua and granted her access, quickly returning to my projects to reclaim the handful of seconds I may have lost fulfilling her request. Then into my head flashed the memory of something I had said on last night’s podcast: I had identified and shared a signal that my attention may not be in the most valuable place, that I may be at risk of becoming out of balance. That mantra of “Just One More…” fill in the blank with your obsession of choice served as the indicator.
I looked over at Ivy the Chihuahua with her chin pressed into the pillow. It almost seemed as if she had resigned herself to sitting with me, without receiving any more attention. At that moment I asked myself, if Ivy was gone tomorrow, would I feel that my time was better spent checking off a completion box?
I then pulled my hands away from the laptop and began giving her the chest and belly scratch that was rightfully hers. She leaned across my arm to provide maximum underside exposure, making her look like Neo dodging bullets. She melted. I smiled.
Of all the things I’ve accomplished today, that turned out to be one of the most important ones of all.