I have a tendency to either see life like a sunny sky that's always been sunny and always will be… or the exact opposite—like a dark sky that's always been dark and always will be. One day, a couple of years ago, I was beginning to feel that ominous sky creeping into my mind. It was lunch time and I thought to myself—hey, I think I'll watch a documentary while I eat lunch. That sounds nice. A few weeks before I'd heard someone say there was an interesting documentary about Sea World. Sure enough, I found it on Netflix and sat there munching a salad, ready to be entertained, and hoping to feel a little less gloomy afterwards. The documentary was very sad. Very, very sad. I didn't watch the whole thing, but I definitely watched enough. When I picked my kids up from school, they told me about their day and I remember thinking, That's really sad. Just like Sea World. And I continued to think those same words—That's really sad. Just like Sea World—about nearly everything I heard for the next three months. It's amazing how many things you can relate back to a sad documentary if you set your mind to it. After a while I started thinking—you know, the world is just one big Sea World, and all of it is really, really sad. I was super depressed. I might have continued that way forever, or at least for a good bit longer, if it weren't for a certain family of geese.
I realized that I had taken a joyful event...and had managed to make it into a postponed sad event by tacking the words, "this time", on to the end of my sentence.
I was driving along, thinking sad thoughts that all went straight back to Sea World when I noticed this family of geese attempting to cross a busy road. I was certain they were all going to die, but to my surprise the car in front of me stopped in time for them to get across, and the car coming from the other direction did the same. The geese made it. Out loud I said, "Oh, thank the Lord! They made it! This time." Hearing myself say this out loud I realized that I had taken a joyful event—a bunch of geese not being squashed flat—and had managed to make it into a postponed sad event by tacking the words, "this time", on to the end of my sentence. The ridiculousness of this had a jolting effect. What had I been doing for the last three months? There had probably been good things here and there the whole time, but I'd colored them all with that wretched documentary.