Learning how to breathe
by Rick Watson
Apr 24, 2011 | 2054 views | 0 0 comments | 15 15 recommendations | email to a friend | print
Rick Watson
Rick Watson
I was rockin’ and rollin’ today — knocking out to-do list items with a vengeance, but that all came to a screeching halt when I stopped for what should have been a five-minute transaction at the Jasper Feed and Seed.

I locked my truck and headed inside. My truck always beeps, buzzes and does everything but hit me with a jolt of electricity when I try to get out with the keys still in the ignition, but today I ignored all the warnings and waltzed inside.

The folks in the feed store filled my order within a minute or so and I headed around to the loading dock where I’d parked my truck, to pick up my feed. I reached into my pocket for my keys, but they weren’t dangling from my left pocket where I ALWAYS put them. I dug around in my other pocket, but it was empty too. When I leaned in close and peered through the glass, the keys were dangling right there in the switch.

As I stood there pondering my next move, I thought to myself – why on earth did I even lock the truck here? The people who go to Jasper Seed and Feed are farmers, hunters, gardeners and animal lovers, who are some of the most honest and trustworthy people on the planet. I’d probably have a better chance of hitting the $300 million Powerball Lottery than having anything stolen out of my truck at the Seed and Feed.

I’ve owned that truck since 2004 and I’ve never locked my keys inside — until today. I stewed a little but one of the warehouse guys stepped out to see if he could lend a hand. We noticed that my driver’s side window was cracked about a half inch — just enough to slip a wire or something inside to try and unlock the door.

He fetched a piece of stiff wire and stood on the passenger side of the truck to guide me toward the door handle. I tried for 15 minutes, and I hooked the handle several times, but I couldn’t get the door unlocked.

Then I remembered what my lovely spouse teaches in her yoga/meditation classes — just breathe. She has a great deal of experience with soldiers who are experiencing Post Traumatic Stress. She says that one of the most calming things you can do is simply breathe deeply.

So I let go of the frustration and the urge to jab the sharp end of the wire into my eye as penitence for doing something so dim witted. I stood there and took several deep breaths. When I looked inside the truck, I noticed the window handle was well within reach.

I maneuvered the wire through the crack in the window and it slipped right around the knob. When I pulled it, the window rolled down about an inch. After a little more maneuvering, I managed to get the window down enough to squeeze my arm through and unlock the door.

I was so happy! The warehouse guy told me that a visit from the locksmith would not be cheap. Knocking off a liquor store to pay for my senior moment didn’t sound that appealing. Another contingency plan was to break a window, but then images of me driving around with duct tape on my window popped into my head.

So, tonight I gave Jilda a hug and told her thanks for teaching me how to breathe.