This Moment Is More Precious Than You Think

Over the last few days, I've been presented with a few reminders from the universe that life is short. That the days never stop coming. We are always moving forward, burying (sometimes literally) the scraps of our past.

The phrase, "live life to the fullest," is trite. I hate to use it. Mostly because I have seen more than one good person "live" themselves into an anxiety attack. There is this constant push to always be doing.

Join another community group, take on another project at work, mow the lawn, join a third book club, sign up for another committee at church, try to remember to have sex this month, mow the lawn, make sure the kids are signed up for that second day camp, paint the guest room, MOW THE EFFING LAWN!

I have never really been a joiner. I tried Young Life in high school. Didn't take. Key Club, FBLA, Student Counsel, none of these things appealed. According to my mother, it's because I just don't like people. Okay, in all fairness, what she said was just that I have never been "warm." Which is her way of saying I don't like people.

This isn't true. I like most people. There are people I don't like, but for the most part they're douchebags, so who gives a damn. There is only one person on the planet I don't like who everyone else I know seems to have zero problem with. And she happens to be a sterling example of the psychosis detailed above.

This woman just flat out gives me hives. She just must, must, MUST be in this or that club, or on a committee, or engaged in some kind of activity that reminds us all that we care less about poverty, or women's issues, or politics than she does.

She is the kind of person who will skip her 10-year-old son's soccer game to sit around discussing the issues facing women in wartime Iraq. Are those issues important? Hell, yes. But there are two things to consider: 1) Re-imagining gender roles in the Middle East amounts to little more than intellectual masturbation, especially when you are member of a women's group in northern Colorado and 2) Your son will never, EVER forget that Mommy's meetings are more important than he is. Really. He'll come leaping out of the closet when he's 18 in the hopes that you'll let him march in the gay pride parade with you and whatever committee you're affiliated with that day.

Hey, a gay son is the best possible accessory for a hip socially liberal mommy. Even better than that $200 Patagonia fleece and $300 Danskos you've got on.

Wait. I'm losing my train of thought. Oh, there it is.

My point is that I feel like, as a people, we are losing the ability to just be. To sit for two hours, drink a bottle of red wine with someone we love, and talk about the hypothetical future without constantly checking our cell phones for messages or looking at the clock. No, that kind of frivolity is not tolerated. If you're going to talk with a significant other, you better be arguing about money, or discussing the division of childcare duties. And put that wine away, slackers! How dare you linger over something as trivial as romance when there are meetings to attend!

All of us have some of this in us somewhere, and please don't think that the point of the post is to deride club membership. Joining groups and clubs is a great way to meet people with similar interests and keep our intellects in shape. We just need to also rediscover the beauty in everyday things. Things that don't require meeting attendance. Sitting on metal bleachers, watching 10-year-old boys playing soccer. The smell of blooming Russian Olive trees. The feel of familiar hands. The taste of our favorite foods. The sound of our favorite songs. Just being.

Because here's the thing. The next time you smell those flowers, taste that food, feel those hands, kiss those lips, could be the last time.

Because we are always moving into the future, and there are always things that can't keep up.