Been thinking of myself as a robot all day. It started when I was on the underground train, watching the morning commuters mechanically flow into one direction. I lifted myself to a birds eye point of view, and fast forwarded the scene:

Commuters, like blood cells, made a stream flowing to a city, that is a heart, who pumped energy in the day, and rode home at dusk, fast on trains, slow on foot, this road, that road, a network of bloodstreams, coming, and going, day, and night, like the rhythm of a beating organ.

So, back snug inside my body I thought of myself as being inside a robot. My body, this robot, knows exactly where it’s going, what cubicle to sit at, how to respond to the tasks given, like a programmed DNA. I noticed my robot wasn’t getting enough air, so I let it breath. I closed it’s eyes and let the fingers continue with the work. My robot’s posture naturally wanted to stay up straight, the head like an alert balloon going up, up.

Work is fun. I’m happy to be with co workers. Work is a game. We are spirits.

At times I’d swoosh back, no longer a robot, just plain ol’ me, a little stressed stumbling over tasks. Then I’d close my eyes and breathe, and I’d be a robot again. The real me inside opens its eyes, and I am much happier.