A few weeks before I got married, my dear friend Phil gave me a gem of good advice. He said, “Stu...at some point in the proceedings, step back and just look at what's happening. Take it all in without any distractions – otherwise it will all be a blur and you'll forget what it felt like." I did that. And I remember. I've been doing that ever since – stepping back. What that really means is “being here, being present, paying attention." And even though, many years later, “wife" has turned to “friend", the memory sits in a warm place. Sometimes that simple act of stopping can make you cry.
Another day in April - my now two-year old daughter, dancing in her princess dress at the foot of the stairs, oblivious to all, and me descending those stairs, freezing mid step to watch her. Then looking to my right and seeing my wife in the kitchen, also frozen and watching her dance, both of us with tears in our eyes. And then the moment never forgotten - she and I gazed at each other and between us was the look that said...my God, see what we have created!" I will never forget that. It binds me to her still.
Sometimes as we move through life, so much of daily living seems sublimated, doesn't it Or we're unaware of it, like driving to work and forgetting everything about our getting there. Why is that? Boredom? Tiredness? Too many opinions about too many things from too many people running through our minds? No. We just can't slow down or take the time to notice or stop that voice in our OWN heads that keeps talking, talking, talking, distracting, distracting, distracting, giving opinion after opinion – instead of just breathing, seeing, hearing, and feeling. Being present.
We narrate our world or distract ourselves from it, to make ourselves feel better. It's a protection, a control. Ask yourself, for example, why we say things to ourselves like “Oh, there's a line up. I don't want to stand in a line up, but I have to...it's probably going to be like this later too...how many people? Four. Well, I've seen it worse...could've been lined up to the door." That voice allows you to control and buffer the world and your reaction to it. But as we're narrating everything through our filter, we may not see the genuine smile of the person behind the counter, or hear the gurgling laughter of the baby in the bassinet three people up the line or feel how good it is to notice the muscles in our legs because we decided to cycle to work.
Often, the purity of our moments, are missed.
Consider: In an age of speed, nothing could be more invigorating than going slow / in an age of distraction, nothing can feel more luxurious than paying attention / in an age of constant movement, nothing is more urgent than sitting still / in an age of constant chatter, nothing is closer to truth than silence.