Every day around lunch time I jog past my neighborhood’s little league field. And every day I notice five or six landscaping trucks congregated around the park. These landscapers are hardworking, mostly Hispanic men trying to etch out a living. And every day, during their lunch break they bring out two orange traffic cones to mark off the goal of a would-be soccer field. After finishing up their lunch, the game begins.
What I sense is that all their morning’s back-breaking work becomes non-existent—the only thing that matters is the game. As if someone threw a switch, these bedraggled men awaken as joyful children, living in a momentary escape. They are totally present, no past no future, just the game.
Whatever your circumstances, recognize that, if you look hard enough, there may be a "soccer game" that you can join and experience something quite profound and liberating.