Why Did the Chimken Cross the Road? | Nov 4 2022

Nov 4, 2022

Here’s what I’ve learned about Alaskan huskies: they “talk” a lot. They like to dig, even in the house. They will lie in the snow and not want to come in. They love to run around. They love their people. How do I know?

Instagram!

Here is a video from one of my favorites. (Unless you are fluent in Husky, you need to be able to read the captions. If they’re not big enough in the video below, you can enlarge it, or watch it on YouTube or Instagram. Make sure your sound is up. )

There is a whole series of “Dad Jokes” in this Instagram account, always with the same dog as the joke teller, the same one as the listener, and the same one who hates the whole thing. It just cracks me up.

And here you thought in the internet was just a time suck.

Which is actually the point of this post, sort of.

Early one morning not too long ago, I found myself scrolling through Husky videos on Instagram. I swear, I thought it was for about 15 minutes. But when I looked up, more than an hour had passed. I took myself firmly by the scruff of the neck and shook myself, hard.

Barely 12 hours beforehand, I’d finished reading posts in one of the few online support groups I trust.  It was a bad day on the site. There were posts from a couple of people for whom the targeted therapy (TKI) had stopped working, the disease had progressed, and in some cases, they’d already tried all the available options, which had failed.

They were looking for recommendations about who in the country to consult for a second opinion, or the names of available clinical trials, or even just somebody in the same boat to share their experience. When there’s a series of posts like that, I have to stop reading for a little while.

So there I was, having had an hour-plus melted by the glow of Instagram. An hour of a life I am beyond lucky to have right now, gone to an unconscious choice. To be honest, it’s not the first time this has happened. Is this really how you want to spend your time? that little voice asked. Writer Annie Dillard’s thought rose up: How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives.

Before you leap to my defense– yes, yes, a little Instagram or junk TV or chick lit is not something on which the value of a life can be judged; yes, everybody deserves some slack-off time– but to slide unconsciously into Instagram, or, actually, anything, without choosing smacks a little of taking time for granted. And, hello, my little scoldy voice continued, remember the internet stories you just read? Are you really in a place where you can take anything for granted?

Not one to take a scolding lying down, I argued back. It’s just an hour or so. Why are you so uptight?

Look, this not a post about the day I guilted myself into staying off of Instagram. It is a post about waking up– again– to a bottom line. Everybody has one; I just happen to have an idea of what mine might be.

Most of the time I don’t take hours or days for granted. I take a deep breath and marvel that I can. I spend five minutes watching the hummingbirds chase each other away from the feeder, amused by what a carnival nature can be. I scrape toothpaste from the bathroom mirror– hmm, is feeling grossed out another form of not taking something for granted? I say, yes. 

Still, damn that scoldy voice. Because, as I kept thinking about it, I realized I’m in new territory.  How conscious am I willing to be, of each moment? Of myself in that moment? Forget about answers; I still have more questions and I can barely find the words to shape those.

Gotta love an adventure….

For Those of You in the Affirmation Crowd

A number of folks have sent messages about their experiences with practicing affirmation. Thanks– it’s been fascinating. I bet other people would be interested in hearing, too. Feel free to leave some thoughts in the comments.

And, for what it’s worth, here’s the longer version of Annie Dillard’s quote, from The Writing Life:

How we spend our days is, of course, how we spend our lives. What we do with this hour, and that one, is what we are doing. A schedule defends from chaos and whim. It is a net for catching days. It is a scaffolding on which a worker can stand and labor with both hands at sections of time. A schedule is a mock-up of reason and order—willed, faked, and so brought into being; it is a peace and a haven set into the wreck of time; it is a lifeboat on which you find yourself, decades later, still living.

Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you start a new adventure today, or at least imagine a chimken crossing the road….