Time’s a funny thing. Its always running, progressing, moving forward. It never sleeps. Its restless energy makes us nervous, so we try to compete with it, to beat it, to move even faster, but what are we running from? What anxiety are we trying to stay two steps ahead of?
Sometimes being in the moment is scary. It leaves us with no distraction from our inner demons, the fears we’re too terrified to look in the eyes, so we run, and we suffer.
We decide we’ll be happy once we have something, then change that something once we receive it, continuing to keep happiness at bay. We create our identity based on a feeling of lack, and happiness seems unattainable.
The only way we can be truly happy is if we can learn to be wildly grateful for life exactly as it is, to slow down and take in everything, to taste all the wonder in this very moment. Happiness can only be felt in the present, and that’s where you come in.
You helped me move past so many barriers, so many layers I held on to so tightly for protection. I remember looking up at you the other morning, your body drenched in the warm morning sun, the soft glow around your sleepy face; your skin more precious than any treasure. The shadows from the clouds outside slowly shifted across your face like a dance, moving gracefully in steady patterns between your face and neck.
With one touch all of my apprehension dripped off of my body, and on to the floor. You pulled me in closer as if you were trying to eliminate the space between where you stopped and I began. Your broad shoulders were like a defending wall I felt I could always seek shelter in, and your breathing like the steady comfort of an old ticking clock.
I took a moment to take it all in, and breathed. I remember thinking if I found nothing greater in this life, I would surely be content. You hold me completely in the present, and I promise I will never take that for granted.