I drove to Canon City this weekend to climb. And as I was driving, I realized my gaze was almost entirely on the road. Now, I guess that’s good news for my driving skills, but I thought a little more about it and realized that I sort of get sucked in to living my life like this, too. Later in the day, I hiked along a trail that lead back to the crag and I found myself doing the same thing. Eyes on the trail. The time I spend moving my body to a new place seems like such a waste. I’m waiting. Just waiting to get there. To be where I need to be.
But there’s much beauty and value in living in the moment. This step that I took on the trail will never occur again. The clouds will never be like this again. And as soon as I’ve lived that second, it’s gone. I hope I’ve lived it well. But I can’t live that moment well if I’ve got a "when I get there" mentality. I started to look up. To notice. The shadows on the texture of the rock. The way the trees grew intertwined with another. The empty valley down below. I began to become present.
Life tumbles and turns underneath us and we catapult past minutes and days and moments as though the days are limitless. My life is very, very good right now. I have what I need. And I almost have what I want. I know the days ahead will bring their own beautiful story. But I can’t know what they will bring or what they will take. So what’s the use of living as though today isn’t enough for me?