* An Instant in Time * in Just Stuff

Set a timer to go off every half hour when you know you will be having a busy day with lots of activity and interactions with many persons. Each time that it goes off, look around yourself, and "freeze" the world in a holographic snapshot that includes not just everyone else but also yourself doing whatever you are doing when the timer goes off. There, along with the frozen-in-place others, you also are in mid-stride or with a goofy look on your face or a serious intent or completely unaware that a large three pound cream pie is flying, mid-air, towards the back of your head--whatever.

Now, pretend that you are an alien archeologist who has happened upon this incredible preservation of the moment. As this archeologist examine this moment in time. Look around at the others. See with these academic eyes the obvious clues of what is going on. What signs--if any--clearly denote what everyone is doing and thinking? Take this very seriously. Really try to see into everyone's mind at this exact juncture. Take at least ten pictures over five hours for maximum results from this exercise.

Ask yourself:

How easy is it to have strong convictions about the emotional states of others even with "just a glance"? How is it that I am so certain? How much, emotionally, do I really "keep secret" if all the others are so "obvious"? Am I that readable?

How often would an archaeologist be wrong about me?

Even when I am looking at the back of a person--no expressions visible--how do I "know them" or "feel their energy"? Am I psychic?

If I were looking over the shoulder of the archaeologist I am pretending to be, what explanations would I offer him/her about the scene? Would I be comfortable with the role I was playing in this snapshot from the "play" I'm in? What emotions would I have while explaining myself to him/her?

How often does a snapshot completely and perfectly symbolize who I am and what I am all about? How often does an archaeologist see me not "in sync" with my environment?

How poetic is every moment in my life? When I look at old photographs from my life, how much of the emotional content is preserved?

If these ten snapshots from today were all I had to leave my loved ones with when I die, what would be missing?

How much does what I am actually feeling at any given time have to do with the structure of the environment? Can I really think freely? How much--how often?

Is my life an open book? How often do I pretend it is securely closed?

Regards, Rick