It’s a tough question to answer in these unbelievable times.
If we’re honest with ourselves, how we are is complicated.
The other morning, I watched kids running down street with their mouths open wide to the sky, hopping and squealing over the first snowfall. Catching snow in their mouths, ballcaps, and scarves, they didn’t need lessons in mindfulness or living in the present moment. Their moment was all that existed.
Watching their joy brought me back to my own contentment. I forgot about later, tomorrow, and the next day. They were just being kids, doing their thing, but they were helping me without even knowing it.
A few hours later, I was in the grocery store, surrounded by a sea of expressionless humans avoiding each other (understandably). I wasn’t in the moment at all anymore. I was in resistance, fear, and worry about the future.
Allowing my feelings to work through, I reminded myself it’s okay to grieve the loss of normal human connection.
Like many of you, home has become office, and this has its comforts and challenges. I love wearing cozy pants every day, but at times I’m living a boring version of Groundhog Day, far too aware of the next garbage day!
Sometimes I’m encouraged by how well friends, students, and clients seem to be coping. Other times I look into the eyes of someone living in terror and wonder if they’ll ever leave their house again.
But then I come back to those kids eating snow. Unexpected simple pleasures are the moments to lean into now, recognizing and deepening into their magic. We can’t always manufacture these moments but we can recognize them when they come.
Some days they won’t come at all—but I promise they will return.
These moments are our lifeline now.
Your moment might come on a walk in nature, in the nuzzle of a pup’s wet nose, in meditation or prayer, in the touch of a familiar hand, or even on a work call when someone shares something heartfelt.
Each of us are feeling something different, but we’re all in this transformation together.
We are all being given the opportunity to feel more, heal more, and deal with more. This will teach us many things, as long as we stay soft inside and not allow fear to harden our hearts.
I don’t know about eating snow, but this season I do wish you many moments of turning your heart skyward, and feeling the exquisite beauty of this mixed up world.
I’d love to hear about your lifeline moments, in the comments below. Your examples inspire us all.
Grateful to be here with you all,