A CALL TO ACTION
Routine has a way of being...well, quite routine. Sameness, over and over. The need for observation of the world around me, of the small details, is something that has come up in my studies of the art and craft of writing. A way to see, understand and communicate. A stepping stone on the path to creativity. And certainly a way out of routine. Thoughts can become monotonous. Badgering, or small mindedness creeping in and creating a cage around ones soul.
But enough, time to break out, explore the world around me, even if only for a brief moment in time. Like breath, in and out. Look, retreat, and repeat. There is a world out there that doesn't have to be moulded and shaped by the thoughts I think. There once was, so there can be yet again.
I was on my way home from the shops yesterday, walking the ten minute trip back home. That's when I saw it. The red beacon flashing from the outside world. A call to action. Something had grabbed my attention. Should I keep walking, or should I respond?
Sitting on the nature strip lay a lost or abandoned phone, covered in a red case. A contrast, red against the green grass. Almost like it had been placed there by unseen forces, knowing it would be seen. Knowing it would be seen by me. And it was seen. I bent down to pick it up. I looked around. Will people think I am stealing this? But there is no one around. Will the owner be around looking for it? I couldn't see anyone in the direct vicinity to inquire of. What do I do? I can't just leave it here, pretending like nothing happened. Can I?
No, of course not. This belongs to someone. This requires action. What if this was my phone? I would certainly appreciate it being returned. So I had to find the owner. That was my mission.
When I got home I took a look. It was a different brand to my own phone. It was like trying to communicate with someone who doesn't speak my language. How can these things be so different? I just want to open it and find some contact details. Swipe, swipe, swipe, ahhhh! Tap, tap, tap, oh for god's sake. Defeated by technology. How do you open this bloody thing? It doesn't even have a password and I can't get into it. Security through utter confusion, was that what the designers were working towards when they created this thing?
Yet incredibly there I was, staring in disbelief as I realised I had managed to get into the phone. But in an instant I lost it. It was off again. Okay, then repeat what I just did and get back into it; easy. But I have no idea what I just did, I swiped, tapped, prayed and cursed all at the same time, and a miracle presented itself. Then it proceeded to withdraw said miracle in front of my very eyes.
Time passed, progress was made, a text came in. Answer the text and explain that I have found the phone and need help locating its owner. That is the plan, I told myself, let's see this through.
The response came back. It was the owner's son. He can help. High fives all around! The owner lived a few streets away from me, yet separated by the language barrier of unfamiliar technology. Still, I managed to track her down, walked around to her place, and returned the phone. And put a smile on the face of a complete stranger. That felt good. Everyone was happy. I experienced some outside-worldness. A world beyond my thoughts, and topsy-turvy emotions. A world that has me in it, but isn't all about me. Where other people also live.
Images sourced from unsplash.com.
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