It’s just a Half-Time show!
We went into halftime with open minds.
Watched a few minutes.
Decided, meh. Not our cuppa.
Turned down the volume.
Got more chips.
Some folks, though, erupted like the republic was collapsing over a halftime show.
Yelling.
Dare I say Raging?
Ranting.
Typing in all caps like a pop song was a national emergency.
Here’s what gets me: No, really. Stay with me.
Nobody was trapped or hostage to NBC.
There’s other channels, other options.
The mute button.
A door to the backyard.
You can literally walk away.
And yet people chose outrage.
Meanwhile, the world beyond the coasts is holding its breath.
Wars brewing.
Missiles are being tested.
Families are wondering if tomorrow will still look like today.
Real stakes.
Real fear.
Real loss.
Hunger.
Sickness.
Neglect.
And here we are, all butt-hurt and losing our $–T over what? A 13-minute concert?
Take a breath!
Step back.
Shift perspective.
Will outrage change the outcome of the game? Roger Goodale’s choices in running the NFL?
Perspective doesn’t scold, it shifts the energy inward.
It just quietly asks:
Is this really where I want to spend my energy?
So we turned it down.
Passed the guacamole.
Kept our peace.
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