Wednesday, April 18, 2007

Morning, Noon, and Night

Do you ever have those moments when you realize that despite everything you've been telling yourself and all the guidelines you have in place, you have completely ended up somewhere you don't want to be?

Maybe it's a situation, or relationship, or just lost in Yonkers? Somehow, against everything you've been working for, you are faced with the inexplicable. The unavoidable, the inevitable.

Recently, I found myself explaining to someone that a process works as long as perform a certain routine morning, noon, and night. Which I meant in all seriousness, and was actually received without comment. It wasn't until my brain engaged that a realized what I was talking about.

The reality of the situation dawned on me without warning. Sort of like walking on the beach at night and the police helicopter comes hovering over and puts the spot-light on you. You can't run, you can't hide, you just stand there amidst the swirling wind, blind and helpless.

Now I didn't really believe I was getting off track before this day. Like a frog slowly boiled, the water temperature increased so slowly that by the time I realized how hot things were, I was already cooked.

Why don't my normal defenses catch this? Why is my otherwise useful rationale and reason seemingly incapable of catching these subtle deviations from the norm? I need a GPS, because my needle isn't pointing north anymore.

How do you ensure that you aren't losing your way, bit by little bit?

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