Around four o'clock today, I smiled at the thought that I'd soon be leaving work for the day. It's been excessively busy lately, because of Passover I'm told, and today was no exception. I had already gone on a few deliveries with one of the drivers, all of them in the city, and I was pretty beat. I was looking forward to heading home and relaxing, but my boss threw an obstacle in my way and asked me if I'd take the pick-up truck and do a couple of deliveries in Cambridge. I'm still unfamiliar with much of my surroundings and the prospect of driving a vehicle I'd never driven before through the traffic-laden streets of Cambridge, with it's disorienting web of streets and reckless pedestrians, who, on principal, will not cast a glance left or right before crossing a road, gave me stress. It didn't appear I'd be arriving home any time soon.
Long story short, I miraculously made my deliveries without getting lost and without totaling the truck, or someone else's vehicle. I felt good about it afterward, because I was forced outside my comfort zone . I'll stop short of saying it was an example of grace under pressure, because although pressure was evident, there wasn't much grace to be found. But still, I acquitted myself well, me thinks.
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There's more I'd like to write tonight, but I'd like to meditate and do some reading. And maybe--maybe if there's time, I will will continue with my Herzog fest and put Heart of Glass in the dvd player and succumb to it's hypnosis, leaving behind the worries, stress, and physical hardship of the day for the ecstatic truth of my friend Werner.
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