Zen (my own working-definition): noun – state of being. When you’re cruising down the 10 doing the speed limit in the right lane and a motorcyclist, who looks strikingly like the white Power Ranger, sandwiches himself between you and the car in the lane to your left. He succeeds on passing and pulls in front of you, only to look back and give you the “universal jerk-off” hand gesture (like literally, acted like he was masturbating) . Instead of feeling any sort of anger (maybe this is a result of the Lumineers song currently playing that you absolutely love or that you are riding on the high of just having finished a really great class), the first thought in your head is that your husband would NEVER do something like that, and you realize that is one of a million reasons why you know you made a good choice in your forever partner as well as one of the many reasons you love him.
The second thought, as the motorcyclist continues to weave in an out of traffic in the right two lanes and on ramp, is sitting down and having a conversation with the guy:
“How are things going?” You would ask.
“Not so hot,” he would respond.
“What’s wrong?”
“My inner-core is uneasy. I’m angry at my parents. My partner. At gas prices. At the election results.”
“I’m sorry things aren’t going well, but I have an idea! When you get home, go listen to Michael Jackson’s ‘Man in the Mirror’. Listen close. And be careful out there.”
By the time this thought pans out, white Power Ranger motorcyclist is long gone, you’re smiling, and truly do hope this guy figures things out. At the very least, doesn’t get killed in a traffic accident.
Hey! Write that down. 