air mail

I think Dallas got it right when he asked, ‘Why are we so worried about the hurry, and less about the harm?’

I also think I’m starting to worry about the harm. I’m worried we’ve been busy so long that we’ve forgotten we were people before these days. That we were intriguing, passionate, and meaningful people. I’m afraid that our frequency of time spent on the clock will begin to convince us that the version of ourself we see most often must be who we are at the core.

I’m realizing the most productive version of me isn’t necessarily the best version of me; and when the by-products of ‘busy’ start looking like hangry and irritable and less than gracious to the people around us, we surely can’t settle into the idea that this is who were created to be.

So while last week my productivity level was at least 5% higher than average, my ability to love people fell at least that much. This week I think I’ll give up that 5%. To respond to the air mail that made its way to my mailbox.


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