It must have been in the nineties on Saturday. It was more than humid. The air was so sticky, being outside felt like my skin was just splashed all over with Coca Cola.

I left the comfort of my air conditioned home to run a few errands and, as is typical on Saturday mornings, traffic was just barely crawling along.

Not my favorite scene under any circumstances, what made things worse was that I was stuck driving behind a garbage truck. Even with my windows closed and the AC on, I couldn’t help but think, Whew! Did it smell!

I had started to swear under my breath. I was mad at the traffic, mad about the smell. Although I don’t usually follow cars very closely, I left an extra amount of space between my car’s front grill and the rusted steel jaws of the municipal compactor on wheels.

Leaving so much room, of course, pissed off the driver in the car behind me. “Can’t you see I’m behind a garbage truck?” I blurted out with corresponding hand gestures. I pointed to the view from my windshield as if this would elicit sympathy from the guy behind me and he would take a break from laying on his horn.

It took almost five minutes to drive from Sacramento to Rockwell, just three blocks. How much longer could this go on? replayed continually on my internal tape.

All of a sudden, I got the bright idea that I could turn onto a side street. I didn’t have to creep along Lawrence Avenue behind a stinky ol’ garbage truck!

Instead of being angry at what seemed to be in my path, I could re-choose.

I did. Then I executed a series of additional turns and resumed heading in the direction of my first planned stop.

Just two weeks earlier, like most everyone, I observed the Fourth of July with music, a few beers and fireworks.

Several years ago, I spent the holiday at a retreat in upstate New York. Along with people from all over the world, I was invited to turn to the person next to me and declare “I am free!”

I know the date is celebrated because of political freedoms, but you don’t have to be part of the Shawshank Redemption cult to know that your civic life is only one aspect of being free.

Looking people in the eyes and proclaiming, “I am free” stirred up a powerful and memorable moment for me. I felt fully present and grounded in my Self.

What you do for a living, or where you live, or who you spend time with can be energizing or draining or even numbing. Remembering that you brought yourself to a particular situation with the best decisions you knew how to make represents a good first step towards being okay with what is.

Then, recognizing that if you’re not happy with something, you can give yourself permission re-choose Is a great awareness.

Turning down a side street rather than following a garbage truck, even one heading in the direction you intend to travel, is no small thing.