It’s amazing how much you can gain by letting go. As I’ve aspired to unclutter my thoughts and life the last few years, my perspective of what is important to me has change. One of these changes is the value of time. Not is it one of the best things I can give, but my awareness of time. Of how I spend time. Of being present in time. The last week I have come to recognize the treasure of simple moments in life. One’s that cost little to no money. Moments that I have had my whole life but never fully appreciated. The true summation of our time is spent in these small moments, not in the big events we remember. So I challenged myself. To collect these times. To embrace and live in these moments. To let them be special. To collect these treasure to add to the booty of memories I have.
It’s as simple as:
Taking my dog Lulu on a picnic. Driving a mere 10 minutes up the road to the Garden of the Gods with my $2 thrift store basket, an old thermos steaming with hot tea that a client had given to me, a great book (The Prophet, Kahlil Gabrin), writing material because you never know when inspiration will hit, a candle (another gift from the woman who gave me the tea), dog treats for Lulu, and of course an old fleece blanket. Sitting on a table facing the park with my dog in place, that is special.
Movie night with my father, where I can look at him and say, “I love times like these when you’re my Dad and I’m just Brittany. Not when you’re my coach or business consultant, but my Dad.” Where we settle in to the couch with blankets, our feet kicked out in front of us. Me with my footed pajamas, always representing the child. With Lulu tucked in and snoring loudly next to dad. With a movie that we rented for free at the library and play on my labtop. Where halfway through I prompt, “of the superheroes we’ve met, which one would you be.” (we were watching the Avengers). Even though we agree we love the humor of Robert Downing Jr as Ironman, Thor is a badass (and it doesn’t hurt that Chris Hemsworth is playing him). Another special moment.
It’s a challenge. Waking in the morning, crossing my t’s and dotting my I’s so that my work is done and deciding I’m going to climb a mountain. The moment of impeccability, where my word is good. I told myself I was climbing to the top, then standing over 14000 feet above sea level and looking for miles in the distance for 360 degrees surrounded by glittering snow. Where I literally stand open mouthed as I look around. “Are you okay,” is frequently the question I am asked in moments like these, where I just stop to look around. Always the answer is, “no I’m just appreciating.” Something Dr. Dyer said that has stuck with me is to live in bewilderment and awe. After 7 hours and over 13 miles, you better believe I’m going to take some time to savor this. To feel how beautiful, big and absolutely humbling nature is.
It’s about a snow filled fairy tale. Hiking at Mueller park, it begins to snow. The initial tense up and conditioned thoughts: what if this sticks, what if I have to drive in this, I’m sleeping in a tent with snow, ugh. But then I immediately expel the thoughts. Let go, my brain says. I let myself live and embody the fantasy of it, and the biggest shit grin never leaves my face (literally a kid in a candy store). I watch as big flakes of snow whirl ferociously around me, before eventually one floats ever-so-lightly to rest on my eyelash or when more land to speckle the fur lining of my hat. I’m not cold, I’m not irritated. I love the snow, like I did as a child. New and untouched.
It’s designating the afternoon as cleaning day, splitting up the chores an cranking up some Beatles. Working together to complete a task.
It’s a candlelight dinner with my dad. As weight loss coaches, we are teaching a lifestyle more than anything, so it is the experience of eating that we practice. We sit chattering away about the day, and I begin frining questions at him: favorite band? Favorite song? Favorite concert you’ve ever been too? He sits cross-legged with his hands falling across his lap, head cocked up and to the side as he loses himself in thoughts of memories past. This I cherish, almost more than his actuals answers. Then we close with a story before singing happy birthday and blowing out the candles. Special.
These moments may seem small or simple, but they it is this time and being present to live and enjoy this moment, that I have come to value. Time is treasure. Life is a treasure. Simplicity is a treasure. Love life and embrace the small just as much as the big gesture!