Welcome to my blog, Ground One.
Ground Zero : Function: noun; Date: 1946 ~ 1: the point directly above, below, or at which a nuclear explosion occurs; 2: the center or origin of rapid, intense, or violent activity or change; 3: the very beginning .
Ground One: Function: verb; Date: 2008 ~ 1: to create a new beginning from an ending, starting from the ground up; 2: to use one’s life beliefs and values to break new ground; 3: to ground oneself; i.e., to become one with the earth or universal whole; 4: to journey within to find new solutions to ancient problems; 5: to use one’s unique individual gifts to improve the whole; 6: to find common ground among a diversity of cultures, philosophies, and ideas.
I belong to four social media networks. It’s a great way to reunite with people from the past and to make new connections. I received this message in one of my networks, and it spoke to me, so I’m passing it along. Additionally, it made me want to meet the person who sent it, when in fact, I don’t know her real name. I only know her psyeudonym, Avalonmare:
In today’s fast-paced, workaday world, many of us have a tendency to charge ahead, not always thinking about how we affect our fellow travelers. Our economic and social systems aren’t currently geared for helpfulness to blossom. Whether we scramble blindly to make our monthly obligations, or simply cut another off in traffic in a rush to get to our next place quicker, we lose a special opportunity to have a positive effect on those around us – and on ourselves. Just think for a moment how you reacted the last time someone else slowed at an intersection and waved for you to go ahead of them. It felt good, didn’t it? You wanted to return the favor, didn’t you?
That’s the way we’ll all feel once we glean the wisdom in allowing others to go first.
The passage spoke to me on two levels. First, I feel too much of our relationship tending takes place without the human touch these days. We sit IMing on our PCs, and texting on our phones. Some days, I go through an entire day without speaking to anyone because I’m a writer and I work for myself. It takes too much time to have lunch or coffee. I’m always on deadline. I’ve been trying for months to meet with a friend to discuss business, and we can’t find a time that works for both of us. The nice part about technology is that we are able to keep in touch with so many, no matter how far flung our friendship circle. However, the opposite side of this coin is that no matter how wide our circle, we don’t have the time to keep up. Technology giveth time, and time it taketh away.
The second reason this passage spoke to me has to do with a chance meeting at a neighborhood intersection yesterday. I’ve been distracted lately, balancing too many balls in the air, trying to keep up with emails, meet deadlines, meet with school officials. Cook. Clean.Carpool. You know the list. That’s where my mind was yesterday morning—on the list. I’ve lived in this neighborhood 25 years, give or take the time we spent in Europe. They changed a neighborhood traffic pattern a few months ago in the name of progress. I forgot about the new pattern for a split second because I was thinking about the list. I slowed as always but forgot I had to yield when making a left. (My right of way had changed.) I was going slowly enough that I corrected myself in plenty of time to avoid an accident with the oncoming speeding car. The man behind the wheel was yelling and gesticulating, and he pressed on his accelerator when he passed me. I put my hand up in apology, feeling like a big loser, “a woman driver,” or worse, “an elderly Sunday driver,” wondering if my mind was failing. I knew I was in the wrong. Yet I also wondered if this man, whom I recognized, even knew it was me he was yelling and cursing at. His neighbor. Who had made a mistake. Who had corrected herself before it was “too late.”
The meeting at the neighborhood intersection would probably have been different 25 years ago, and not just because my mind was less distracted, more spry. A neighbor 25 years ago would have waved me on, would have let me go first. A neighbor 25 years ago would not have been speeding. A neighbor 25 years ago would not have cursed me out.
And I would have been grateful that they had forgiven my error. I could have crossed guilt, at least in this instance, off my list.
And next time, I would have let this neighbor go first.