Today, several aspects of life are in transition. We’re thinking through a few major life decisions. And my laptop blew up. Well, not in a “Mission Impossible” sort of way. Just…fizzled out. More like Bartleby the Scrivener: “I would prefer not to.” Not cool, Lucky! Not cool at all.
Apparently, my fan has gone out. Computer-savvy as I am, I just thought my computer had gotten quieter, more contemplative. Nope. It’s lost its “cool” factor. And my internet connection goes in and out because it seems to need to be chilled as well. This feels like when I worked at Aspen and sometimes our air conditioner, positioned right over my desk, would leak onto my computer. It dripped steadily from the ceiling. I had the maintenance guys on speed dial.
Alexei, the regular custodian, would tell me in broken English, “If you close the conference room door, the system has to work too hard. It will continue to drip on your desk.” But keeping the door open was not an option for the types of meetings – some very confidential – going on at our firm.
Sometimes we lose our own “cooling”ability. We close our minds to other possibilities, other ways of thinking. We get angry or moody or temperamental and are unable to be rational about situations. We see red and nothing else. I recently got upset about a certain incident and it took someone with more wisdom than me to get me off the ceiling. They could see green and blue and purple, shades of another perspective that eluded me in that moment. Their insight saved me from possibly administering a wedgie. I am grateful for others’ “cooling” mechanisms that extend in grace to cover me as well.
As I type this with my on-again, off-again computer, I hope to finish before it crashes completely. I need to remember that everything needs tending to at times. Our appliances, our cars, our bodies, our attitudes. I am learning to cool it.