On not seeing the forest for the raindrops

We were blessed with our first rainfall in a few weeks while I was driving to the garage this afternoon.  My Suzy-Q, a 2006 Hyundai Elantra sedan, just got a new transmission (woohoo!) and I had to drive our van, which we lovingly call Green Hornet though Green Monster would be a more accurate moniker seeing as how it's not nimble or quick like a hornet.  It does lumber down the road with weight and persistence, so maybe 'hornet' isn't so far off the mark, after all.  Anyway, I needed to drop in at the garage to pay the balance on the transmission so The Hub and I could return later, after the shop was closed, to pick her up.  

When the rain began, I could see just fine using the intermittent wipers, but as the rain set in the wipers couldn't do the job.  The rubber wasn't swiping the rain off the windshield to give me a clear view; it was smearing the water around instead of cleaning it off of the glass.  Seeing where I was going felt like using the bottom of a water glass as a windshield: it's not smooth, and no matter how long you hold that glass upside down there's still water clinging to and distorting the bottom.  

It was hard to see through the raindrops.  They kept distracting my eyes, calling attention to where my attention least needed to be.  I needed to have my eyes on what was happening ahead of me, but my eyes kept getting distracted by the raindrops -- they were bright, and my eyes kept getting distracted the same way an autofocus camera wants to focus on the thing closest to the lens.  

When our mechanic met me (at my car with an umbrella in his hand!), the first thing I asked him to do was put in new windshield wipers because I couldn't see a damn thing.

I posted yesterday about seeing the gold, taking chances, and going for the good stuff while it's there, yet only 34 hours later I was getting distracted by something (or, rather, hundreds of little somethings) that kept me from having a clear vision of what I should have been focused on.  The risk in losing focus is that when the time comes for decisions to be made, whether the many small decisions we make every day or the major ones that come along only once in a while, being distracted means -- for me, anyway -- that I can't refocus quickly enough to trust my decision making progress.  Living in focus needs to be a habit so there's less time living in the quandary and more living in the joy.  

Focus is on my mind these days, as I try to establish new habits in how I spend my time.  There are so many distractions that aren't nearly as important as the thing I should be looking at, yet those are the things I end up focusing on.  When I can't see the forest - that thing full of potential growth come spring, that thing that guards and treasures and hides the life that shelters within it -- it's time to step back, refocus, and improve my vision.  

How's your vision today?  What challenges you and, more importantly, how do regain your vision when you discover you're not focusing where you want to focus?  Please share in the comments!

This road leads through a wooded area.