Being able to concentrate on the task at hand is a great gift. I remember as a little girl climbing into my Father’s lap and resting there while he was typing a  philosophical paper. Lost in thought, I’m not sure he knew I was there, but it was very peaceful.

When I began my writing career, I too developed the ability to concentrate and was able to work anywhere. Since my co-author and I lived far apart and had no office, we met at a local McDonalds every morning after dropping our kids at nursery school. We knew we had it made when the hamburger-flipping manager took a phone message for us. When McDonalds changed their taste in music, we dressed up and moved to a remote corner in the lobby of an elegant hotel where no one bothered us.

As I have grown older, I have discovered that concentration and multi-tasking are really not that compatible-- ever since I tried to stir the soup while answering the phone with my TV remote. I am very conscientious about remembering the names of all of my new new neighbors. Sometimes, I have to concentrate on the the whole alphabet to find the trigger for a name. The other day, I found myself staring into my  kitchen cupboard thinking, “Why am I here?” That is not an existential question such as, “Am I really here?” because I knew I was really there, but did not remember exactly “Why?” However, as I began to leave the kitchen it came to me.  I had just finished reading about the Governor of Arizona—-Governor Doug Ducey. How did that name relate to what I was looking for? Then it came to me in an “Ah, Ha” moment. NUTS! I was looking for nuts.

Often it’s difficult to concentrate while watching the evening news on television. There’s just so much bad stuff  repeated over and over.  It can lead to thoughts such as, “What the Hell is going on in this unfathomable universe?” However, before accepting “existential angst” it may be helpful to remember the story about the little boy who was digging a hole, with his  little shovel, in a pile of dung. When asked, “Little Boy, why are you digging that hole in the dung?” The little boy replied, “There’s got to be a pony in there  somewhere!”

As I think about it (which is also a form of concentrating) I think it makes sense to keep digging, so we can make our lives as purposeful and meaningful as possible.  Also, if I think about it long enough perhaps I’ll figure out how my water bottle ended up in my hiking boot. After all, I never lose things, I only misplace them.

Esther Blumenfeld