You have a task list, or at least a general outline, for the day. Outside of that framework, the tides of life will inevitably bring in some flotsam and jetsam. The more organized you are, the more odds and ends pile up against your list. It can begin to feel like a weight and a battle. You might begin to obsess over productivity, purpose, and focus. You might turn to the self-improvement industry to seek balm for the rash on your mind. And, of course, the balm it’ll offer you is yet more tasks, organization, and structure.
If we stop our frantic chasing after blank banners long enough and really look at the odds and ends, we make a curious discovery. This little bit of life that calls to you has to do with your central identity as a parent. That little bit over there has to do with doing something outside of your comfort zone, or at least outside of the chains of your routine.
In fact, the flotsam and jetsam of life isn’t rubbish or distractions at all. It is actually the core of your life, and the task list and routines are things you’ve tried to overlay on it.
The sad mistake of professionals is that they hurry through the important things – family relationships, adventures, meeting new people – so that they can get back to the hamster wheel. All the things we believe that we should be doing are just guesses. All the things we believe we must do to secure or advance our position are also guesses. The flotsam and jetsam represent even more than the core of life – these little odds and ends are the very guidance of the divine. Through them, you are granted opportunity to move into new spaces and advance in worldly ways. Your routine will do nothing more than satisfy your mind’s craving for security and dominion.
We lay plans over mystical reality and then wonder why the world seems darkened. We lay roles and expectations over ourselves and others and wonder where the divine spark in all beings is hiding. To pull back the carpet you’ve laid over the world, start with the flotsam and jetsam. Start with the random encounter in the store, the strange object in the parking lot, and going over to a stranger’s house. Instead of looking to add to your task list, look to subtract. Make more room for the unplanned and, when it comes, give it more enthusiasm. Planning, roles, and expectations are little fictions – claim your power and revise them constantly. You can gain no more security or advancement by them anyway.
How could a Child of God be made more secure than eternity or more advanced than a manifestation of divine love?