Modern life seems obsessed with the pursuit of convenience, when we might have noticed that the most important things seem to happen at the least convenient times. It doesn’t follow, though, that surrounding myself with inconvenience might somehow encourage important things to happen. Humans like me might quite naturally tend toward digging ruts to live in.

My peak experiences seem to happen between these inevitable ruts, when some inconvenience forces me up onto the bumpy ridge between ruts. I can usually tell something important’s about to happen because I exhale sharply in exasperation, like I’m blowing myself up and out of some stuckness; as if I’d really rather stay stuck.

Try as I might, I find it darned near impossible to inconvenience myself. Sure, I can and do stumble myself plenty, but the gift of true inconvenience seems to require outside intervention. Any accident will do. Me? I have My Muse, my wife and life partner, who confuses me plenty. We’re enough alike to cohabit and enough different to keep each other on our toes. On my toes, I might be just that little bit better able to peek up out of my current rut.

Love intrudes. It bushwhacks. Nobody can will it. We might claim to be in it when it seems more likely in us; its arrival always a major disruptive inconvenience, its departure inconveniencing, too. It came for me at an early enough age that I’m afraid I was completely unprepared to recognize my experience as metaphor, a living parable, intended perhaps to inform me more than consume me. But I was consumed. I might have even become addicted to trying to tame what was disruptive by its very nature. If I’d hoped to render love manageable by marrying, I’m grateful now for how wrong my misconception must have been. Marriage keeps a primary source of inconvenience close at hand.

No need to apologize. When the grand process breaks down, I might get to slow down and be free of the stuckness of predictability for a moment. Where’s the sorry in that?

We’re traveling next week. For me, travel means stepping into the maw of inconvenience. I’m sure to miss meals, toss sleepless in an alien bed, drive right by my exit, arrive later than expected, have to change my plans, and utterly disrupt my life. I won’t complain that much because my life needs the occasional disruption like the garden shrubbery needs pruning. For some, the cancelled flight means disaster struck. For me, it means adventure’s finally found me.

©2012 by David A. Schmaltz - all rights reserved

Tags: Unstuck Stuck Consulting