I can't stop thinking about what I read recently in the November issue of Real Simple magazine, because it resonated with me so much, and it's something I've been conscious of for a long time now, but could never fully put into words as succinctly as Roxana Robinson did in this excerpt:
It's easy to drift though the day, to move without thinking from one activity to the next. Our lives are so crowded, and we do so many things, often at the same time. We're caught in a web of tiny threads, all tugging at our attention. We're on the street or in the car, on the phone, with the radio on, already late, distracted, our minds leaping ahead, worrying away at the knot of obligation and expectation and urgency that blinds us. Maybe drift isn't the right word. Maybe spill is better, as though we're carried by a river in a spate that rushes and spins us along. Often it seems there's no way to slow down.
But actually there is a way. We can stop that hurtling rush at any moment. It's easy -- like opening a trapdoor into a secret world.
What I do is focus.
I think: Right now, this minute, I'm in the midst of my life. Waiting at this red light, watching that man in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt cross the street. Standing by the window at midnight, listening to the owl send his liquid cry through the darkness. This is my life, each second. Pay attention.
I do this partly because I'm a writer and I want to record the moment in my mind. But this isn't for my work, thought it might end up there. This is for myself. I want to remember what it's like, being human, right now. Of course, I want to remember when things are great, but I also want to remember when things are dull, when I'm still sitting at the gate hours after my flight should have left, or when things are painful, when I'm in the middle of a fight with someone I love -- even then. Those are the moments that make up my life. I need to know them. I want to pay attention. And doing this gives me a certain power. If I stop to pay attention during a fight, I may hear myself and think, Is this the person I want to be? Is this the way I want this conversation to end?
This attention gives my life meaning. If a moment is meaningless, it has no value. Then I've spent it for nothing. I've wasted it. But if I'm aware of it, the moment becomes valuable. Then I feel exhilarated. I feel a kind of richness: I am lucky to be alive and watching that man crossing the street, or listening to the piercing call of the owl, or caught up in a passionate conversation. Paying attention means that I'm valuing the moment. Joan Didion once wrote, "Every day is all there is." She's right. And every day is made up of moments. They're ours to cherish.
So you can stop that rushing flood tide. Pay attention, just for a moment. Think to yourself, This is my life, right now. I need to remember.
It's easy to drift though the day, to move without thinking from one activity to the next. Our lives are so crowded, and we do so many things, often at the same time. We're caught in a web of tiny threads, all tugging at our attention. We're on the street or in the car, on the phone, with the radio on, already late, distracted, our minds leaping ahead, worrying away at the knot of obligation and expectation and urgency that blinds us. Maybe drift isn't the right word. Maybe spill is better, as though we're carried by a river in a spate that rushes and spins us along. Often it seems there's no way to slow down.
But actually there is a way. We can stop that hurtling rush at any moment. It's easy -- like opening a trapdoor into a secret world.
What I do is focus.
I think: Right now, this minute, I'm in the midst of my life. Waiting at this red light, watching that man in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt cross the street. Standing by the window at midnight, listening to the owl send his liquid cry through the darkness. This is my life, each second. Pay attention.
I do this partly because I'm a writer and I want to record the moment in my mind. But this isn't for my work, thought it might end up there. This is for myself. I want to remember what it's like, being human, right now. Of course, I want to remember when things are great, but I also want to remember when things are dull, when I'm still sitting at the gate hours after my flight should have left, or when things are painful, when I'm in the middle of a fight with someone I love -- even then. Those are the moments that make up my life. I need to know them. I want to pay attention. And doing this gives me a certain power. If I stop to pay attention during a fight, I may hear myself and think, Is this the person I want to be? Is this the way I want this conversation to end?
This attention gives my life meaning. If a moment is meaningless, it has no value. Then I've spent it for nothing. I've wasted it. But if I'm aware of it, the moment becomes valuable. Then I feel exhilarated. I feel a kind of richness: I am lucky to be alive and watching that man crossing the street, or listening to the piercing call of the owl, or caught up in a passionate conversation. Paying attention means that I'm valuing the moment. Joan Didion once wrote, "Every day is all there is." She's right. And every day is made up of moments. They're ours to cherish.
So you can stop that rushing flood tide. Pay attention, just for a moment. Think to yourself, This is my life, right now. I need to remember.
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