I thought that turning 50 meant the gift of a wakeup call. Here was a shockingly clear marker defining the last half of my life. There were 50 years of life spent, spent, spent. "Wake up," 50 said. "It's slipping away." "Pay attention." Although happy and feeling saturated in the moment, I also sometimes felt as if my hands were outstretched, fingers grasping at the ephemeral substance of time, trying to hold it still. It was the primary reason I started this blog. I needed to pay attention by recording my days and experiences through words and photographs. I marked time by trying to remember details and focus on the moments of my day.
It came to me the other day, that the very act of that grasping makes time even more evanescent. The energy it takes to notice the fact if its passing chases it farther instead of keeping the moment close. The bittersweet irony of time. Like a dream. Instead, immersing oneself in the moment by living it, and forgetting about how quickly the moment is passing, makes the moment the most realized. Just gulp the moment and swallow and love it and move on to the next.