My daily commute is about an hour one way and because I have no ambition to ever be on time for work, it's a nice start to the day. I've taken to listening to audiobooks on the drive because there is nothing good on the radio and the news is depressing and stressful. I love my audiobooks.
So the other day I'm driving and I am stressed to the max. My plate is full of this, that and the other. My hierarchy of needs is missing just about all the first two levels, so that's fun. I drive along and turn on my current audiobook. It's a collection of short stories from the 19th century. They are very entertaining with beautifully crafted wordsmanship. A short story by Stephen Crane called The Blue Hotel is playing but I'm not really listening. I'm not being mindful. I'm caught in the past and future and am not enjoying the now. This story catches my attention though. Such a suspenseful build up, such beautiful writing, even the narrators voice draws me in. I forget all my troubles, all my stresses, all my woes and focus on this art penned over a century ago. I am captivated and listen all the way through, even sitting in the parking lot for a few minutes once I arrived to hear the end of this joy. The ending sucked, I mean sucked. It did suck in an artful way and the middle of the story was glorious and was put before me at a time when I needed it though. Thank you Steve, for putting pen to paper all those years ago. It was just what I needed.
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