Maybe We Need Some Distraction From Our Distractions

Late summer/early autumn seldom gets more beautiful than today; 85 degrees, low humidity, and blue skies greeted me as I arrived home a little earlier than usual for a Tuesday.  My Jack Russel Willis and I took advantage of the conditions for a fantastic hike at Canoe Creek, one of the plethora of PA state parks near us. 

For the record, here's a picture of my furry friend.  Saying "awww" is an entirely appropriate response, as he is really cute: 

As we were on our way to the last leg of the trail, it seemed like a chorus of work commitments began singing to me.  All of the upcoming meetings and lessons, as well as the papers un-graded and dissertation sections not-yet-written, seemed to be chastising me.

"This walk in the woods is distracting me from what I really should be getting done," I thought for a moment. 

Then I looked down at my little dog's earnest brown eyes and knew I had it backwards. 

"All of those things I need to do are distracting me from THIS moment," I realized. 

There will always be another paper to grade, another report due, and another meeting to prep for.  It's far less likely, however, that a perfect sunny fall afternoon with your best four-legged friend will volunteer itself to you.  Despite the importance of all the grown-up things we do, shouldn't this effort buy us an occasional escape?  Conversely, don't these sojourns give us the mental recharges we need to operate at our best. 

I took a deep breath and committed to the afternoon, making my time on the trail my priority and giving my attention to my canine companion.  The e-mails would still be there when once I returned from the woods, and none of those meetings were running up against my hiking schedule.  

In reality, these moments away from our routine make us better once we return.  Some isolation from "the grind" recharges us, provides time for contemplation, and returns us to our communications stream with new ideas and enthusiasm.  By some perspectives, we owe it to our coworkers to disconnect and put our personal batteries up to full capacity. 

As Willis and I finished our sojourn through the land of white tail deer (and a black snake or two), I felt like the blood had truly returned to all of my extremities.  I got back in my car, knowing that I would have better answers for my students and colleagues based on the time I had taken for myself to walk, ponder, and breathe with my canine buddy. 

Nobody will give you the time; you must take it for yourself.  Rest assured, your friends and colleagues will appreciate the extra energy you're able to give them in return.