” There was a kind of personal retreat, even on the part of the most far-sighted, the most spirited; we lowered our eyes from the horizon and steadily contemplated our own navels. Then it was easier to build the need for love and sex into the end-all purpose of life, avoiding personal commitment to the truth.”

~Betty Friedan, The Feminine Mystique
When I contemplate the horizon, reality fuzzes a bit and is replaced by a vibrantly idealistic fantasy of which I am the star. In this particular fantasy, I am a juggler, effortlessly balancing a successful career, meaningful relationship with the currently faceless “One” all the while contining to excercise mind and body in various fashions, care for my prodigy children, and maintain a full social calendar. The future “me” aparently does not sleep and is part machine.
What I am chasing is a mirage, puffs of pink fluffy gasses that cloud my senses.

I went running today, and I noticed some absurd behavoir in myself. As I jogged along tree lined neighborhoods, past the storybook houses, fresh-cut lawns, and flowering bushes, I would occaisonally try to sniff one of those flowering spring buds wihtout breaking stride. This was impossible to do without looking ridiculous. My nose would zero in on a flower, my jogging body would push me forward past the flower, and my head (lead by my nose) would be helpless to follow, so I throw my head back and to the side to allow one quick sniff of flowery aroma.

Such is the pace of my life right now. I am a passenger, Time is behind the wheel, and he is running stop lights. I am trying desperately to stop and smell, and breathe, and enjoy.

When did Love, Sex, Home and Family become ultimate goals in life? Did I miss this vote? Can I nominate Intelligence, Truth and Balance?

Balance, ahhh balance. If there is one thing on my horizon, it is the quest for balance. Ive got to work on my juggling.