Some days seem to be so full that to take time to breathe is to waste the time that could be used doing what comes next. There is always more to do, always more to see, feel, hear, taste, think, know, but I digress. It's been a few months since I've written for this blog. I have been active engaging my life in the sensory experiences that surprise me and take me out of the past and into the present moment where I create my life. In a summer of new experiences, voices, people, I stepped into a greater embodiment of my life. This embodiment in itself had to be experienced in the filling of days, and subsequently, years. With so much to do, and so little time, apparently there is little time to stop and be. Or is there?
As a New Yorker, okay Long Islander, I know the meaning of rush hour. I lived on Long Island for the first twelve years of my life before living in Western New York for the last twelve. People living in Western New York, where I presently reside, seems to be in a race for time as busy becomes trendy and patience becomes a homophone for peopled treated by doctors and nurses. Time seems to have become a commodity that we compete for and prioritize as a scarce resource. What was once a shoulder for a bicyclist to use on the roads have become improvised turning lanes. We schedule appointments to converse with friends on the phone instead of calling them up to see if they're available. I sometimes wonder if our time saving cell phones make us too busy to live our lives.
When I hurry, I lose track of where I'm coming from and have a hard time finding where I'm supposed to be. The desire to fill my life is still strong, but as I fill my life, I begin to see what I might be missing by always looking ahead. I notice this most often when I'm running late to a scheduled event in my life. Everyone else seems to forget that I'm running late, that I need to get where I'm going, and I need to be there now. When I take a breath, I begin to remember that my punctuality, or lack thereof, is not their responsibility. Furthermore, when I slow my thoughts down, I realize that being concerned about my lateness won't actually get me to my destination any faster. Instead, I have time to calmly assess what affect being late will have on what I will be able to do upon arrival at Point B.
Similarly, anxiety keeps me wondering about the unknown, rather than remaining alert and aware in the present. The anxiety and fear of the unknown makes it hard to be happy and let myself fully be. I want the days to be long, to be memorable, and to be fully realized so that when my year is viewed in reverse, I can see what I can reminisce on with gratitude and joy. I don't want my hurriedness to be recalled with regret. I want a memory to be one of pride and maybe even whimsy. So how do I challenge myself to live a life I will be fully satisfied by?
I have heard about doing that which I am afraid of, to recognize the deeper knowing that life's goodness rests in every act of kindness and breath of smile. In the very real snowball of anxiety, I can listen to what I fear, and listen to what I know, and step into that which is about to happen with less apprehension and more excitement. For the best is what is to be created right now for a future of remembering and continued living. It is then by realizing growth as a claim to the life I am living that I fulfill the life I dream. For life is about diving in and discovering the unknown as it runs through my fingers and soaks my shirt in the juice of living.
To be present is to notice what is right before me. To make some life out of a moment and realize all that is unfolding before me and in me, before you and in you. Smile.
