These Are Not My Beautiful Jeans
There’s something that starts to happen as we get older… we begin to rely on a little help to see clearly. Glasses. And I’m officially in that club now. Not just for reading words—but for seeing things up close… objects, details… reality itself, apparently.
Recently, Sarah and I were invited to a live taping of a TV show. She knew someone involved, and we got seats right up front—close enough that we might even be on camera. I’m thinking… this is it. My big break.
Sarah got ready that morning before work. Black evening dress, hair perfect, makeup flawless. She looked stunning. And of course… I wanted to look good too.
So I’m moving through my day, a little rushed… I check my drawer… and I see my classy gray jeans. Perfect. Stylish. Event-ready. I don’t grab them. I don’t feel them. I don’t verify. I just see them… and move on.
Spoiler alert: I was not wearing my glasses.
Quick sidenote… Sarah and I still maintain two households, so not everything I need is always in one place. So when I think I see something… I tend to trust it.
But here’s the thing… when we’re in a rush, we don’t double-check, verify, or slow down. We assume. We categorize. We say, “Yeah… I know what that is.”
And the brain? It loves to help. It says, “Hey… you’re busy. I got you. Just give me a glance—I’ll fill in the gaps.” But where does it get that information? Old patterns. Past experiences. Moments where we didn’t truly see—we just recognized something similar.
So now we’re not seeing clearly… we’re assuming.
And sure… we might save a little time doing that. But I’ve been sitting with this question:
What are we actually gaining with the time we save by assuming?
What do we really do with those few seconds?
Because this doesn’t just happen with clothes. It happens in conversations, in relationships, in the moments that matter most.
We see something starting… and the brain says, “Oh… I know this one.” Same script. Same reaction. Same ending.
It’s like a jukebox. You drop in a coin, and it plays that same old record:
“Why my woman always leaves me… and my dog runs away…”
Same song. Different day.
But here’s the thing…
we forget there’s another side of the record.
What if, instead of letting it play, we paused… reached in… and flipped it over?
Same jukebox… different song.
What else could be true here? What am I actually feeling? What am I really hearing? What’s happening right now—not last time?
That’s curiosity. That’s presence. That’s where life stops repeating… and starts revealing.
I had another moment like this recently… I grabbed a soda—yeah, it happens —and I was so rushed, so disconnected… I took a big gulp… and I couldn’t even tell what it was. Root beer? Coke? Dr Pepper? No idea. Just… bubbly liquid.
That’s how far we can drift from our senses.
So yes… we move faster. We assume more. We “save time.” But again…
What are we actually gaining?
Because when you’re with someone you love, listening to a friend, or reflecting on your own life… those are not the moments to rush.
Those are the moments to pause… check again… and get curious.
Because sometimes… what you think you see… isn’t what’s there at all.
So how did the story end?
Well… those weren’t gray jeans. They were gray sweatpants. And they were the only thing I had to wear.
So there I was… Sarah looking absolutely stunning… and me… looking like I just rolled out of bed.
Lesson learned.
Slow down when it matters. Stay curious. Don’t let the brain play the record without checking the song.
And maybe… just maybe… put on your glasses first.
Slow down, you move too fast… you got to make the morning last…
Prusten. (Word of the Week - Look it up)
ROAR with Love,
Danny
The Emotional Driver
“Emotion Is the Note. You Are the Song.”
