Synergy excites me.
My grad school classes were all taught with an emphasis on
cross-academic learning – I loved when, in my writing class, we
read Nick Herbert's Quantum Realities and at the back of the
book was a score of a song he or a colleague wrote called “Quantum
Jazz.” Learning some of the basic principles of quantum physics –
particularly theories about the time-space continuum -- was thrilling.
Then seeing Herbert put that learning into a Jazz score? Excellent!
And this was all part of a writing class! I
know some of my best writing took place in that class because there
were all sorts of new bits of knowledge to stimulate the thoughts and
ideas that came out on paper.
Those convergences
seemed to come on a regular basis when I was in graduate school, and
even right after that when I was working in the Arts. But soon
after, in building a life of work, spouse and kids it has been hard to
see and feel those convergences. Or, they happen at lightening speed
and the time to acknowledge and enjoy them disappears. Time seems to
be a critical ingredient in the recipe for happiness.
Gentle
enlightenment can appear in unexpected ways: sometimes
from an e-reader that you resist for months and sometimes from a neon
green bike standing in its kiosk calling out your name.
For me, the
combination of these three small new habits has brought new delight
to daily living. I look for opportunities to ride “my” bike
during the day. I enjoy the easy access to books and reading via the
ereader and accompanying smart phone apps, and it is wonderful to find
just a wisp of time during the day to enjoy these things after a
refreshing short bikride.
I love that
something I couldn't believe could happen (ebooks), is happenning and
I am enjoying it.
I love that I am finding time during the day to be
out bikeriding in the air, and not sucked into my desk, or in the midst of a weekend laundry marathon -- things that must be done but are the
antithesis of fresh air and outdoors.
I love that it is
new.
I love that a door
has opened.
