Stalked By The Ordinary

When I order at a restaurant, I wait until the last second, open the menu, close my eyes and randomly point out my choice. I want to be suprised. I don't want to eat the same thing I ate last time. If you think about it, you can't lose: there isn't a section that says "The entrees we lied about. This will make you sick". Eating establishments want you to like their food. So why order the same thing every time? Eating the Chimi Changa Special every time is like daily deja vu for the taste buds. What a waste. You could could have discovered something new.

Repetition makes me twitchy. Maybe it's the sameness of everyday life that repels me. It's standing in the shower in the morning, realizing that not knowing the day doesn't make a difference. Does it matter if it's Wednesday instead of Thursday? Who cares? The unnerving part is knowing that something great can still be done. There is a distant call of close combat, sounds of argument, heated in pursuit of averting a crisis, movement in the periphery of my mind, away from the languid flow of the herd.

I married the love of my life. Been honored to be part of producing four unique, strong personalities who bless and lead those around them. I have been fit, running, wrestling, boxing, playing soccer, basketball. I have been mentally tough, completing the Army's Airborne and Ranger training, deploying to combat. I excelled in languages, getting my degree in Russian. I have led people, from being a jumpmaster pushing paratroopers out with the green light, to building a business, mentoring leaders. I have wept with people who are suffering, as well as with the rebellious, bent on destroying themselves and their families. I have been to several countries from the Middle East to Central America. I have been the pillar in crisis, in church, family, business and the military.

By my account, my life is only half spent. The only good I have done is with people. And people are tricky, camouflaged by the mundane.
I am stalked by the ordinary. I fight a war of attrition. I was not meant to sit in the same chair everyday, cleaning up other peoples' messes, conquering only the urge to run. People themselves are my only hope. The individual human is the cure to the ordinary. The existence of a person justifies the grind, the infuriating pettiness, the suffocating smallness of the day. The unique human, when known for who they are, when they are, where they are, is the only great adventure left.

Waiting in the airport, watching the flow of travellers pass back and forth, I am awed by the diversity of people. No two are the same. Nor have any two ever been the same in the history of mankind. And as they stride past me, rushing to their next stop, they are changing. Their minds, souls and bodies are in flux. All of them have a story, a purpose. And it will be unique, standing as one of kind across time.

The great adventure is to know people and to be known. The ordinary is simply the symptom of not engaging people, not serving them.

Today is Friday. It matters.