Commuting can be made contemplative, if you turn off all sound while driving. I’m amazed at the soul time there. There, you can feel out your life in relaxed reverie.
(Ending a sentence and then beginning the very next one with the same word . . . . Redundant, you say? . . . Forceful . . . powerful . . . emphatic . . . unexpected! . . . critics are saying.)
Driving can be an entry point into your own personal space-time wormhole. Everything softens. Nothing seems fixed anymore. Other possible universes feel accessible. There, floating in the wormhole of your life possibilities, other trajectories materialize before you for exploration.
When I was driving around the country for a year and a half I was surprised to find that I could travel hours without radio or audio on. Those were the most enriching times of travel.
You know that optimal driving zone, alert yet relaxed, inert yet poised.
That is also optimal self time. It’s spacious time, meaning there is little else impinging upon our mind-space. Other than meditation or a walk or a bout with nature, where do you get that?
It is especially effective if you keep inching yourself to higher thought — to a higher place.
There have been times, driving, when all of a sudden I’ve gasped at the emergent clarity on an issue I’ve been grappling with. Or been lulled into thinking, ahhh, that’s not such a bitch, that’s not so big as I thought it was. And resolutions ping into consciousness.
You know what I like to do? Talk to my soul self. I’ll get me and Me together to play-act something in the day. Or play-act something seemingly impossible from where I’m at now. So much that was once unlikely is now in my life — why not play-act other unlikelihoods?
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