When Larry picked me up at Puerto Vallarta’s Diaz Ordaz airport last Sunday, I had been away from Mexico, for all intents and purposes, since August 1. I was eager to return to my “quiet spot” on the globe and try to digest the megatons of information, contacts, counsel and inspiration one tends to pick up on a book and conference tour. We exited the airport and sat in traffic for an hour and a half. No lie. There was a bicycle marathon, and four lanes of the main road through PV had been shut off for the purpose. It was a sabbath-day gridlock.
I’ve felt the same way about my poor brain. It’s a mess in there, a veritable jam-up of post-publication counsel on how to “get my message out there.” I’m advised to LinkIn, Tweet, Facebook, gather my tribe, organize my contacts, make lists on FaceBook, put together video trailers for Youtube, polish up 10-second, 30-second, 2-minute soundbites, get a decent photo, form partnerships, teleconference, tag and drive traffic to my website, seminarize, monetize, categorize…..frankly, “Ize” gettin’ a little overwhelmed.
As I was crawling under the covers last night and emerging this morning, the last verse of a hymn I’ve known since childhood came cruising in like a welcome traffic cop. The words point the way out of the gridlock, a pointy arrow of direction, if not to the fast lane, at least to a clear path. They are part of a poem written by that “other Mary” in my life, Mary Baker Eddy.
My prayer, — some daily good to do to Thine, for Thee —
An offering pure of love, whereto God leadeth me.