Sharp as a Tack

Maximum:  The greatest quantity, number, or degree possible or permissible.

One of the standard affirmations in my morning Quiet Time is to express the hope that I may be of maximum service to everyone that I come into contact with.  I believe I've mentioned this before.  I suspect that I've mentioned it many thousands of times which is what I do when I want to convince people that I'm doing something pretty admirable that I'm not really doing.  That way I get the glory but don't have to do the actual work.  It's the best of both worlds.  It's another Catch 22 but a really nice one - I highly recommend it.  For instance, in my Quiet Time this morning I alternated between nodding off and imagining which super-car I would buy if I won the lottery for which I never buy a ticket.  Porsche or Ferrari?  How about both?  If I'm going to win the lottery I might as well go whole hog.  The point is I had a "Quiet Time" and got to fantasize freely.   

Yesterday at the meeting I introduced myself to a guy who I had never seen before in my life.  Apparently he knew who I was, recalling in great detail a number of past interactions detailed enough so that his recollections seemed pretty plausible and not open for discussion.  It was somewhat embarrassing on my part but it happens to me often enough that I simply plow ahead with the conversation.  Anyway, he started to tell me a long, convoluted story that completely confused me.  I tried to engage him with listening noises and a quick comment or two but I really didn't have any idea what he was talking about.  There may have been some mental illness involved; it may have been present in both the speaker and the listener; or he may have been lost on one of the winding flights of fancy that trap all of us from time to time

The point is that there were a lot of my friends at this particular meeting that I would have loved to catch up with.  I don't get to see these folks all that often so I like to talk to them.  Instead, I listened to this guy spin out a barely comprehensible story.  He didn't come up for air once.  I could have projected a hologram onto the wall and he wouldn't have noticed.  There wasn't a momentary pause that would have given me a chance to bail out.

"Wow," he said.  "It's good to see you.  Thanks for letting me get that out."  Whatever it was that he got out.

This is the conundrum of the prayer.  I was of service, apparently.  I didn't enjoy it at all.  It wasn't what I wanted to do.  I want to perform service of my choosing at a time and in a place that is convenient to me.

Maybe I should change my affirmation to "help me be of service at a time and place of my choosing."  That would be a really admirable prayer.