3 Days

Three days with only your own thoughts. 72 hours. 4320 minutes.25920 seconds.

As we prepare to drop our son's friend at a 3 day retreat filled only with meditation, contemplation and silence, I reflect on how I might handle this. It is not a pretty sight.

I have developed a nervous tic, an involuntary response to the Android phone that never rests more than a nano-second away from my hand. Like a gunfighter practicing  his trade, I reach for my connection to the 21st century constantly. The mere passing thought of trying to take that away from me for more than an entire weekend and I am beginning to twitch.

I don't find myself particularly interesting even in the best of circumstances. I don't remember  many jokes. How many times can I ask myself  "How do you make a tissue dance"? I am not very creative so I don't think I could envision the sticks and stones before me as weekend playmates. My attention span is woefully short on oxygen.

Left to my own devices, would I be compelled to turn my focus to political issues to entertain me? No, that would be far too depressing. How about my beloved Yankees or the painfully woeful football Giants? Not this year. Could I break down my golf swing and reinvent it? That would just be putting nasty on top of ugly. Certainly, there is enough going on in my work days to fill the void. I would rather amputate my small toe than spend these moments revisiting those moments.

Do I look to universal issues of human kindness, compassion and grace and examine where I have been, and where I intend to go? Too much for my feebled self to deal with. Can I strike up a conversation with a God whom I have not been on speaking terms with for a very long time? Not likely.

Where would I find myself on such a journey?  I fear that after 15 minutes I would start talking in tongues and within an hour be baying at the moon.

Maybe I could try to retrieve some of those verses of Shakespeare that I learned so many years in my past. Oh yes, "Tomorrow, and tomorrow and tomorrow creeps in this petty pace from day to day." No, the Bard of Avon provides no solace.

I am sadly, a very poor candidate for consideration. Too antsy, too unfocused, too much of too many things and clearly not enough of others.

No, these coming days for me will not be spent in self-reflection but self absorption. Not enlightenment but entertainment. Not considering higher purposes but higher prices.

Three days, 72 hours, 4320 minutes, 25920 seconds. For some, a path to a higher being. For me, just a very long weekend.