One morning a few weeks ago, near the end of one of the most bitter winters in living memory, I was walking to my chiropractor’s office. I go to his office once a week – the only time I take that route.
Along the way, I pass a community garden marked by a white picket fence. That morning, the shadow of the fence undulated in blue lines across a gleaming, fresh snow drift. I considered stopping to take a photo of the fence, the shadows, the brittle, diamond-like snow reflecting the blue sky.
But it was so cold. I didn’t want to stop and take off my mittens in the frigid temperatures or take the time to find my phone. “I’ll get that picture next time,” I told myself.
But there wasn’t a next time. There was never another week where the snow was that fresh and cold AND the sun shone AND the light was right.
Just in case I hadn’t gotten the message clearly enough, the Universe reiterated it for me last Sunday when I went to a drumming recital. At the end of the session, class and audience were invited to take up a drum or other percussion instrument and jam together. It was an amazing, collective experience. Afterwards, one of the leaders noted “The music we just created will never exist again.”
I’m glad I was fully in that moment.
Each spot of time is unique. Be in it. Absorb it. Appreciate it. This moment is the only moment and will never be again.