We often hear the suggestion to just "live in the moment."
I think that's a good idea.
Easier said than done, though, when our minds are filled with so much data---things to do, stuff happening, frustrations, etc.
Hard to turn the mind off, these days more than usual, I've noticed.
Happily, though, the "in-the-moments" moments still come to us at the most unpredictable times.
They can also be so powerful at that very moment that all the other "stuff" goes into a back drawer long enough for us to experience the wonders of the world.
They can also be so powerful at that very moment that all the other "stuff" goes into a back drawer long enough for us to experience the wonders of the world.
Such a moment appeared literally out of the blue this morning as I was walking through tall, wet grass (now my pant legs are soaked) in the hay field.
Suddenly I looked up and saw the cloud formation seemingly heading east.
Suddenly I looked up and saw the cloud formation seemingly heading east.
For a moment, I stood entranced by the sight before pulling out my cell phone and capturing those clouds so that one day or maybe more times, I could go back and remember that moment on a June Saturday morning in the crazy year of 2020.
Since then, my mind has returned to overload, but for "one brief, shining moment," it enjoyed a magnificent break.
Actually, in the past 24 hours, several moments have provided some welcome respites from the worries of the world.
Yup, that chocolate swirl soft ice cream cone, purchased at Selle Valley Creamery off Selle Road yesterday, kept my mind concentrating on putting that tongue to work, lest chocolate and vanilla melt down my hand and land in my lap while trying to drive and lick ice cream at the same time.
For the last big bite, I pulled off the highway to a wide spot, removed the paper wrapper and gobbled down what was left of ice cream and the cone.
Mighty nice treat, just as it was while visiting with sisters Peggy and Margaret, both of whom I've known for years.
Margaret told me all about her son Robert, whom I'd had as a student a while back. I figured it had been "a while" since she told me Robert has retired from the Navy and now works at Sea-Tac.
I always liked sweet Robert when he sat in my senior English class, and it did my heart good to learn of his success after all these years.
It's also hard to go into lamentations when your Liam is putting on a show at the tree just off the deck.
I'm thinking between Liam dangling from tree limbs just seconds after hearing the cue "Squirrel" and CB racing around the barnyard with his big colorful ball, we could put together the great Lovestead animal acts.
We saw a generous helping of black-and-white getting along just fine as we sat around in our social distance circle last night, munching on take-out and chatting away like we have grown used to doing outside for Friday-night dinners.
After a gloomy afternoon, the sun came out, the temp warmed up and the setting was pleasant. Lots of good moments between people and funny, busy dogs.
And, of course, this time of the year, the flowers do their fair share of transfixing us with their ever-evolving beauty.
It may take a little discipline to work harder at "living in the moments" ahead, but just like wearing masks in public, washing hands and maintaining social distance, developing such a habit can't hurt.
Thankfully, we still have those special moments like seeing those unusual clouds to help us forget the loss of all the others that used to be so common and maybe even taken for granted in our daily lives.
Speaking of which, the quote below, truly reflecting the times and posted by my witty friend Glenn, gave me a delightful chuckle moment yesterday:
If aliens landed today I would be like 5% surprised and then go to work.
Happy Saturday. Stay healthy.
May you find some special moments in which to live with a smile on your face.
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