Living right here, right now
The wheels on the bus are turning, always turning. Oh, wait; those are cogs inside my head.
Recently I made a discovery about myself – one I am somewhat embarrassed to admit; I am often not present in the moment. My brain is always rushing and my mind is working three, sometimes ten, steps ahead. My thoughts are often focused on the next event, phone call or deadline. My to-do list runs a mile long, or at least fills several pages of a reporter’s notebook. I often find myself short on time and short on sleep. My brain is often as cluttered as my desk.
At a glance, those would seem signs of a busy person. But with deeper introspect, I thought, “How shallow is that?” and began to question if I am busy with important stuff or are the important things passing me by? Where is the arithmetic mean between living in the moment and proper planning and foresight? How can I have moments that take my breath away if I am always looking to the next moment?
Carpe diem. Seize the day. Nope – all too often I am looking toward the next day.
As the dawn of realization of this character flaw began to surface, I was somewhat shocked, disappointed, and worried whether or not there was hope.
Then I cleaned closets. This past weekend, Ashley and I planned to clean my closet, which may surpass my desk and my brain when it comes to clutter.
On the appointed day, we arose quite early. Not intentionally, may I add. There is just something not right about waking around dawn on the weekend. But there we were sitting awake at 6:30 a.m. for no apparent good reason.
“Well, since we are awake, we might as well get started,” Ashley said. Gotta love that girl’s beaver nature. So coffee cup, trash bag and donation box in hand, we trotted upstairs.
Fifteen minutes later, I was sitting on the floor sorting through shoes when my husband found us. Uh, oh… not good.
Now one thing I have learned in my few years of marriage is to never ever let my husband help with the cleaning of anything that may include long forgotten treasures tucked away in boxes, especially if those treasures include electronics from the 80s with non-working parts. Ashley and I have a pretty good system, one in which Mac is better off left out.
“I could sort through my clothes,” Mac offered from the closet doorway.
“That would help,” I responded as my mind quickly jumped six steps ahead to what treasure boxes would have to be delayed until after his part of the tasks was complete. The last thing I needed was for him to be retrieving discarded items that might still have some “good use.”
For the next couple of hours Mac sorted through clothes, parting with many. Ashley and I delved into everything else and occasionally stopped to ask him about things that pre-dated us. You know - things like “bobbly” antennae ears and the silly glasses with a plastic nose attached.
Several donation boxes and trash bags later, Mac decided that it might be time for a break. “We should really start thinking about lunch,” he said.
“Umm, you do realize that it is only 9:30, don’t you?” Ashley quipped.
“Well, okay, breakfast then,” Mac popped back.
It was in that moment that time stopped, and in that instant, I was not thinking three steps ahead or about to do lists or even about breakfast. In that moment, the only thought running through my head was, “I love right here, right now.
In that moment I was not looking forward, or looking back. I just was.
Who would have a thought that a moment that took my breath would come while I was cleaning closets.
Maybe there is hope for my cluttered brain, yet. And if not, at least the closet is no longer cluttered – at least right here, right now.