It seems that distractions follow us wherever we go, like ravens after the scent of carrion. They circle us constantly, cawing and fleetingly throwing our faces into shade. For many though, distractions are a welcome sight. In the blistering heat people might call for a huge flock of ravens to circle them, and vultures too, anything to protect them from the sun’s piercing rays.

This is my relationship with distractions. They are a friend I haven’t seen in years, who happens to visit when I have the least time to spend.

“Conor, come to the pub, we have to catch up it’s been forever!”

I of course oblige grudgingly, and for the first half an hour my stomach twists as I think of everything I have to do. This is the trap though, the more anxious I become the less I want to think about my obligations, the more I welcome the shade. I soon find myself engrossed in the nostalgia of conversations with an old friend. The second pint comes with a relief, I’m committed to the distractions now, the ravens have chased away my nagging worries. The nagging scent of carrion fades as the raves feed, and soon my friend isn’t a distraction at all. I am enjoying myself, and the occasional whiffs of responsibility are unwanted.

In a sense my life is nothing but distractions. Whatever I am  doing, there is always something else calling for me. If it’s not the cawing of the crows, it’s the heat of the sun. The universe is like a needy child shouting, “Conor! Look at what I can do!”

Distraction is the fence that keeps me from progressing, but it also protects me from awareness. “Ignorance is bliss,” it’s the catchphrase of distraction. Sometimes though, productivity is my distraction, and this is when the clarity comes. If I just keep up this momentum then nothing can stop me, my goals whiz by me as I pass on after another. Then there is the swoop or a raven, and the whisper and weight of responsibility begins to weigh me down.

Whether the cycle begins anew is up to me.

Distraction fading