This is a post about going out of the way. To find my way.

It goes like this: I woke up this morning kinda cranky and out of sorts. Definitely not myself (or, at least not the self I aim to be!).

Walking back from getting coffee, I decided to take the long way home.

To go a few blocks out of my way so that, maybe, the extra steps would clear my mood.

It didn’t really make sense to do this. Not in a mind-full way. My crankiness meant it had taken longer than usual to get out of the house. So going out of the way meant I’d likely be late to my first meeting. In addition, it’s supposed to hit 100 degrees today. So going out of the way meant more time under the intense summer sun (which, even at 8:30 a.m., had me feeling like I was in a 400 degree oven!).

But, I didn’t think about, care about such things.

The moment I heard the idea to go out of my way.

I just did.

About five houses down on a street I don’t normally walk, I saw this cooler with this note.

Just some random act of kindness outside some random house on some random summer day. I think the randomness is what actually got my attention.

And, in an instant, changed my mood.

Certainly, I didn’t go out of the way to look for “a sign” to be in a better mood.

Yet, here one was.

And, whoever, put the cooler and sign out certainly didn’t do so for me.

Yet, here I was.

Out of my way.

So I could find my way.

Home.

To the day that is today.

And all its “amazing” possibilities.

The Practice of Being Alive is a collection of stories about getting through this thing called life.