Yesterday morning, despite having a three-day weekend, I woke up tired and preoccupied with work. I suddenly felt like I had a few dozen things on the to-do list and was aggravated with myself for letting it get to me first thing in the morning. It didn’t help that the dog was nudging me for attention and to go for a walk. I looked in the mirror and reminded myself that a morning walk could be enjoyable, that the drive in to the office can be picturesque, that the best antidote to creeping obligations is to be in the moment. That was, of course, before the dog started barking at other dogs on the walk, and before I became enmeshed in a story on NPR and didn’t notice the mountains on the drive…. so much for being in the moment and my little pep talk.
This morning, the to-do list was slightly shorter and the nagging thoughts while eating waffles were slightly less invasive. We went for a walk a little earlier than usual – which meant, among other things, that we saw fewer dogs out (less tugging and barking), and we caught a nice sunrise over an empty field (above). In that moment, when I walked past our usual turn and instead went up the dead end street to the open field, I felt like I had won a small victory – like I had stolen a moment from all of the usual distractions of schedules and dog training and things that need doing.
It’s strange to think of having to steal moments from / for yourself. It seems sad that we have to work hard to shut out the noise of life in order to be present, in order to have moments, however brief, of feeling carefree. I thought about this on my drive in yesterday (when I was supposed to be present and taking in the scenery). I dictated a note on my phone: “we need things on which we can center… things that force us to be in the moment.” But force, isn’t quite the right word. In those instances, balance just seems natural. To some degree, I felt this for a few months in Memphis, and I know I’ve felt this in relationships… things just feel more “right” and in place. It reminds me of a line from Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse Five – an epitaph for Billy Pilgrim “everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.” I’m hoping to discover more of these stolen moments – where what matters most is what’s right in front of me.