Rush Hour Yogi

I stare at the license plate in front of me and fall into a sort of blind stupor. The arching rainbow before my eyes looks calm and inviting, beckoning me to lounge on its sandy beach, a margarita in hand, and just relax.

Just let it all go, chill out for long enough to take a full breath, really fill up my lungs… the way we never do these days.

It’s just in, out, in, out, gasping for our next breath but never taking in enough air to really even get a full breath; we’re in such a hurry to get to the next one… In such a hurry to do everything.

But if we would just slow down for long enough to truly experience life…

Maybe then…

The car behind me lays on the horn.

I shake myself awake and realize the rainbow in the Hawaiian license tag that was in front of me is now gone, and the light has changed to green. The guy behind me honks his horn again, and I raise my hand in the rearview mirror, waving him off.

“Yeah, yeah. Sorry, guy.” I say glumly, and apply the accelerator.

Back to reality.

Back to the rat race.

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