By Alex Chong Do Thompson
My eyelids are getting heavy as I drive down the interstate.
It’s been a long weekend of college graduations, and late-night parties with family. It was fun. But the lack of sleep is starting to catch up with me. I try all of the usual tricks to stay awake. I roll down the windows, play loud music, and consume energy drinks until my chest burns. But none of it helps. I do some quick math, and calculate that I have about 3 more hours on the road before I get home. There’s no way I’ll make it at this rate, so I make the decision to pull over and take a nap.
But this leads to a new problem. Where am I supposed to pull over? It’s illegal to sleep on the side of the highway. I’m not above catching some rest in a Wal-Mart parking lot, but my GPS says that there aren’t any nearby. In fact, there isn’t much of anything nearby. I’m traveling through a stretch of country where the landscape is dominated by forests and abandoned farms. As a result, highway exits are few and far between. So I’m on the verge of falling asleep at the wheel with nowhere to pull over and no way to get off the interstate. It doesn’t look good.
Terrible images begin running through my head of multi-car pileups and mutilated bodies flying through the air. “Something’s gotta give,” I whisper quietly. Suddenly, I see a blue and white sign on the side of the road, and a feeling of relief floods my body. The sign says, “Rest Area 1 Mile.”
I pull into the rest area and park my rental car in the first available spot. There is a small brick building in the middle which appears to house restrooms and several vending machines. The building is surrounded by a large grassy area with several large trees and picnic tables. Under different circumstances I might grab a bag of chips and walk around for a bit. But in this moment, my mind is focused on other things. Without another thought, I set my phone alarm, lean my car seat back, and surrender to my exhaustion. When the alarm sounds one hour later, I feel completely refreshed.
As I drive out of the rest area, I look around one last time. There isn’t a single piece of trash anywhere to be seen, and the grass is perfectly cut. I make a mental note to include the groundskeepers in my chanting tonight.
But then another thought occurs to me. What about the construction workers? After all, someone had to build this place, right? That being said, none of the construction would’ve been possible without the taxpayers who funded the project, or the politicians who gave it a green light. I make a mental to note to chant for the health and well-being of all of these people.
But as I continue driving, the thoughts keep coming.
The landscapers who planted the trees, the cement company that installed the parking lot, and even the people who use the rest area each day without trashing it, all played a part. But that’s not the end of it. None of this could’ve happened without the people who built the highway that I’m driving on or the car that I’m riding in.
The more I think about it, the more I realize that every human being on the planet has assisted me in some way, shape, or form on my journey. Without their help, I wouldn’t be able to visit with family or travel between cities. And who knows what would’ve happened if they hadn’t given me a place to sleep. A warm feeling of gratitude fills my body as I think of how fortunate I am. I live on a planet where all life is interconnected, and all of it’s working for my benefit.
Who could ask for more?
Editor: Dana Gornall
You can follow him by visiting his blog, The Same Old Zen and on Twitter: @sameoldzen
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