Moments

12 February 2009

It’s hard…life that is.

It’s hard going through transitions…making choices…paying bills…getting hurt…stepping on toes…losing people along the way…finding jobs…seeking meaning…staying consistent…remembering the things that really matter…not eating too much…exercising enough…finishing books…starting them for that matter…

Why is it that these things are so difficult? Is it that we really don’t care enough about them…that we just think that we care about them or that someone has convinced us that we care about them? I’m not sure exactly, but none of these things are easy. They take work.

But then I get caught up in the work. Am I simply going to work at everything, for the rest of my life, til the day I die. Am I always going to be tired? Will I ever get enough sleep? How come my weekends aren’t restful? Do I do too much? Do I have too many friends?

Then I get to the point where I don’t care. I get apathetic. I want to…and sometimes do…quit. Be done. Not try. But that never solves it.

But in that moment. The moment that takes place just after the apathy lifts itself off my shoulders and my lungs fill with the first fresh breath of crisp air…that moment is where I want to stay. The moment where I’m re-inspired. The moment where I post on my blog for the first time since October…the moment where I go to bed when I’m supposed to…the moment that gives me the ability to wake up renewed, regenerated…the moment where the first cup of coffee for the day tastes better than any cup before it…the moment where I smile for no reason…the moment where everything comes into focus…the moment where for the first time in so many months the sunrise means something so much more than the ability to see…where Mt. Ranier is so clear that you have to call someone to make sure they get out that day and see it.

Last weekend was that moment.

I’m more convinced than ever that it will last. But if it doesn’t, it’ll be back.

It always comes back.

My advice for you…don’t wait for the moment, make it.

Yours,

Josh