There is something unique about standing in line at a grocery store. There you are, with your items you've selected. Maybe they are in a shopping cart you pushed around, which you have now parked in a cue? Maybe you are holding too many items and are losing your grip, while you are hoping the old lady in front of you knows how to use that new-fangled chip card?
At some point, you reach the cashier. He begins with a friendly "Hello," then proceeds to scan your items.
Then, as if in some kind of trance, you drift out of your reasonable state of presence into another world. Your mind starts to wander, and you realize suddenly that the cashier in front of you has asked you a question.
"Sorry, I'm out of it. It's been a long day."
As a customer, I know that feeling well. And as a cashier, I have seen that momentary mind drift countless times, especially on Friday afternoons.
My response is simple, yet deep.
"Don't apologize. Your mind probably really needed that break. And if you can't daydream in the checkout line at the grocery store, where can you do it?"
Or this one: "Hey, it would be great to have a meditation session in a sweat lodge right now, but you probably just finished work, and you have to go home and make dinner and do some laundry before going to bed. So yes, by all means, take those two or three seconds you have there, while I'm scanning this food, to have a moment to yourself to space out."
I mean damn, this is our life: A series of hoops to jump through, including phone calls to make, emails to answer, bills to pay, children to pick up, and dinner to cook.
As Bob Marley sings, "It's a disgrace, to see the human race, in this here rat race."
Sure, most of us are not going to ditch our modern lives to become river-bathing, spliff-smoking, Jah-worshiping Rastafarians. Some of us may hit the gym, or go to a Yoga class, or play drums in a garage band to balance out our stressful, clock-centric lives. We do what we can to manage it all, these lives we live, these worries and hopes we all have.
And maybe, in those two or three seconds at the grocery check out, your mind finds its center. The lights go out. Maybe other parts of the brain light up. Unconsciously, your tiny invisible helper gnome is in there flipping brain switches in a last ditch effort to right the ship before the head gasket blows.
So I say to you people, take the time to daydream, and maybe even try to enjoy it a little bit. Try not to feel shame that you took a moment to deviate from the almighty God of Productivity. Maybe in that moment you might imagine yourself in a hot tub in a fancy hotel in Paris. Whatever floats you boat. Try to notice when those moments happen, and embrace them. Because for me, they are valuable nuggets of mental health that are not so easy to find in our modern world.
