Autopilot

The other day, I went looking for my phone before leaving the house.

A moment later, I found it exactly where I always put it.

In my purse.

Without realizing it, I had already completed the task.

Autopilot.

The word has become shorthand for a particular feeling.

Sometimes I'll arrive somewhere and barely remember the drive.

Sometimes I'll move through an entire morning and suddenly realize I haven't been fully present for any of it.

The routines are happening.

The tasks are getting done.

Life is moving forward.

But I wasn't really there for it.

I've started paying attention to those moments.

Not with judgment.

Just curiosity.

It's surprisingly easy to spend days following familiar paths, completing familiar routines, and hardly noticing any of it.

Then something breaks the spell.

A beautiful view.

A bird.

A conversation.

A moment that brings me back into the room.

Back into my life.

The older I get, the less interested I am in perfect efficiency and the more interested I am in aliveness.

Noticing when I'm here.

Noticing when I'm not.

And returning.