The Sweet Spot

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I was thinking this weekend about consciousness. Specifically about one state of consciousness. The Greeks might have called it the happy medium. Some would call it health, some happiness. Some wouldn’t think to call it anything at all. I call it the “sweet spot.”

For the vast majority of people, I suspect, consciousness isn’t a puzzle; it’s just there—simple, given, unproblematic. But for some portion of people—and I wish I knew how many—consciousness is hard. For me it’s that combination of a trapping introversion, one in which you can’t find a way to express (at least in a socially acceptable way) who you are inside, and an estranging extroversion, one that serves as a coping mechanism for the introversion. Sometimes it’s a simple as being too loud and talkative when that’s not really you; sometimes it’s losing sight, when you’re in a group, of who the “real you” might be.

With aging it all gets easier, and some days it all comes together. On Saturday I sat out on our deck in the sunshine, reading my book The Barbarian Conversions and drinking my Diet Coke, drinking in too the beautiful trees and dappled light. Then I talked on the phone with my best friend and got to experience the blessing of true connection. It was a good day; a great day. Doing the things I love most, feeling connected with others without betraying those things . . . that’s the sweet spot.
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