I was that guy.
You know the one. The one you hate. The one you and your people shake their heads at. You see him at the restaurant, sometimes at the doctor’s office, and always at the DMV. And today, my fellow humans saw him at the airport in Doha.
“What’s the deal with that guy?”
And then, suddenly, I had a moment of clarity and calm amid my temper tantrum.
It didn’t come from bullshit, fake optimism like “making lemonade from lemons” or “smiling on the outside so my inside will believe it.” I couldn’t possibly have conjured any of that.
But somehow, I stumbled on a moment of mindful awareness of my presence in that time and space and gratefulness for being. I’m in freakin Doha, Qatar. That’s kinda cool.
Yup, the old me also thinks that sounds nuts. Was I chemically altered?
An actual calm came over me as I paced in the corner behind the gate seating. I saw the light bulb. I took a seat.
I’d be lying if I said that now all was well, but at least I could sit and breathe.
But this was a brief respite. The pressure was about to build again.
