On Sunday, after the routine of The New York Times and a cinnamon roll (oh, what a treat!), I walked past my office. With no plans for the day, I felt compelled to clean up my desk. I figured this would take about 15 minutes to get organized.

I emerged from the office five hours later.

I went through every drawer. I went through every file. I threw away stacks of ideas that I'd tucked away, no matter how brilliant I thought they were (I'll birth new ones).

I kept re-arranging the furniture until the flow of the room felt right (I've been working on this for several years now, and I think I finally got it right). When it was all over, I must've carried out a couple hundred pounds of papers, furniture, and um, shit. I'm a fairly tidy person — I've never been super-organized, but I'm no slob either.

ta da!

I think most people can relate to the power of getting organized and the feeling of freedom that arises from a good purge. (If you're not, try it! The energy in my office is completely different now — peaceful, open, welcoming, zen. I find myself excited to walk into the space in the morning and begin writing.)

What really surprises me is how blind I had become to my office situation. Again, it wasn't a disaster area, but ever so slowly, the chaos grew. And it all became my new normal.

I notice this same phenomenon, this desensitization that takes over, as I listen to people outside of my work. They talk about the parts of their lives that they do not like, but more often than not, they do nothing to change their situation. They seek no help. They try nothing new. Making a meaningful change does not seem to register as a possibility. They're the fish in water who can no longer see their world with a clear eye… It's not good, but it's "normal".

But the greater truth is that with intention, awareness, and a willingness to show up, it's possible to clean anything up…

Anything.

After two hours of excellent basketball on Friday, I hit the shower in the locker room. While I hear that women's showers generally have private booths for showering, the men just herd up like cattle in one open room. So I'm showering, naked, as I often do, when a fellow basketball player walks in and pops on the shower four feet away from me.

There's nothing unusual about any of this; it's a routine we've done a hundred times. There's usually not too much talking in the shower. This is simply a function of acoustics — the small room is an echo chamber, making it difficult to hear anything clearly.

But as I shaved my head under the hot water, my fellow player spoke.

"So did your guy win the other night?" he asked.

Our post game banter usually sticks to scripts where we are known to share common ground, things like the weather or ski trips we're planning, so I was a bit surprised by his question. He knew nothing of my preferences and I knew nothing of his (though his phrasing "your guy" gave me a flashback to "that one").

I paused for a moment and applied some more shaving lotion. I figured we were already naked, right?

"Yes, he did," I replied.

He smiled and his voice rose.

"Me too!"

Granted, I do not know this man well, but we are well-acquainted. In the moment of his reply, he was as joyful as I'd ever seen him.

And I felt pretty happy, too.

Yes.

What is a very cool life, anyway?

I don't know if you've heard, but there's going to be an election in 3 days here in the United States.

I believe that this event will mark the beginning of an era of change in this country and in the world. I believe that we'll take a step towards hope, away from fear. Of course, not everyone will be on board with this change — change always meets with resistance. But I think we've reached a tipping point where more people are ready to expand. The risk of staying in the known is greater than risk of the uncertainty of change.

Cool.

Life is good. And always getting better. If that's what you want. And choose.

Fall meets Winter

Frozen fruit

From my deck. On a clear day, you can see forever.

Clear days ahead.