Just Take a Breather

This morning I’ve budgeted two hours to write a blog post. But so far it’s all trash.

I’ve sat and sat and stared at my computer screen and scratched my head and looked up articles and phoned a lifeline and asked the audience, but I still can’t think of a single thing to write about.

Ever been there?

Truth is, I’m zonked. I’ve been on three out-of-town research trips lately. I’ve been rushing to meet two huge deadlines and for about four months now have been working evenings and weekends in an effort to get it all done.

Ironically, my mind—because it’s too full—is completely blank.

Blah, blah, blah.

So here’s what I’m going to do, folks. Right now, at this exact minute, I’m going to …

TAKE A BREATHER

And leave.

Maybe I’ll just drive around for awhile. Maybe I’ll take a walk.

Here I go …

 … Okay, now it’s 30 minutes later and I’m back at my desk. While I was out, my mind started working again, and I thought of this illustration.

Twenty years ago, shortly after graduating from college, my good buddy Paul and I took a road trip around the western states of America.

One morning just over the Wyoming state line, I was driving, and there was nobody out except us, and right in the middle of a highway we needed to screech to a stop because a herd of sheep was crossing the road.

Yep. Sheep.

We sat and sat. We sat some more. Something was wrong with the sheep, I guess, because they wouldn’t cross the road like they needed to. So the sheepherders were running back and forth and shouting at the sheep to move their fleecy hinnies, but the sheep just weren’t crossing.

A half hour went by. We kept sitting, engines off. During that time a grand total of five cars backed up behind us. Rush hour in Wyoming.

Finally all the sheep all got across the road, and we were given the signal for traffic to go again.

Boy, it was like a starter’s gun went off. You’d have thunk we’d been waiting for years. We five cars pressed forward in a frenzy. All of us were accelerating and weaving, passing each other and honking, all bucking for position, all trying to get ahead. You’d have thought we were in a NASCAR race.

If you could have been in a helicopter right then, you would have seen a completely blank stretch of highway for miles in any direction. But we five cars were bunched together, all desperately trying to be first.

I remember thinking how counterproductive all our frantic efforts were, even while I had my foot to the floorboard.

So I did perhaps one of the smartest driving moves I’ve ever done.

I pulled off beside the side of the road and let the pack zoom ahead.

That’s the lesson.

Whether you’re sitting at your desk and work isn’t getting done. Or you’re on a freeway with a gang of cars.

Take a breather, Speedy Gonzales.

Just take a breather.

Sometimes it’s the best thing you can ever do.

Question: What’s your best technique for taking a breather?