Johnny Depp once said: "Trips to the dentist; I like to postpone that kind of thing."
I was stuck in the dentist's chair for two and a half hours last Tuesday. This was perfect for a rainy spring day in New York. I came in depressed and anxious about business and some personal issues. After hearing the dentist's usual homily on my dental sins (poor brushing, insufficient flossing, erratic check-ups), I grimly settled in to endure my dental cleaning penance.
I like my dentist Marvin. He has an encyclopedic knowledge of American popular music which he plays while drilling away. I learn a lot from him. Also, I tremendously enjoy his excellent laughing gas. (Last week's aroma was piña colada. Yahoo.)
For my appointment, Dr. Marv's musical play list was from radio broadcasts of the 1930's. Enlivening and enjoyable, as always. In my existentially saturnine mood I found myself listening to a song I'd never heard, called, "If You Want To Have The Rainbow, Then You Have To Have The Rain." It was a lovely, light depression-era ditty about looking on the bright side of life. Nothing especially deep. Yet it got me thinking positively again and jolted me out of my stultifying, self-pitying funk. It restored me to gratitude and clarity.
I treasure those blessed moments of unexpected captive stillness that can sometimes quiet the frenetic, unreasoning pace of daily business life. They can be both a palliative and a meditative grace. Even five minutes stuck waiting on a line or 30 minutes on the train can imbue a renewed centeredness and insight. These moments are a gift and make me a clearer, freer, happier man--and, I am sure, a more sure-handed writer and a more prosperous entrepreneur. I am so grateful when these captive moments find me, pull me up short, and bring respite and perspective to the headlong rush that is the essence of most of my business days.
German poet Gottfried Benn (Statische Gedichte) says,
"To represent some part,
Traveling to, and from,
Is the distinguishing stamp of a world
Which does not see well."
Thank you, Gottfried.