I'm sitting out in the middle of a driveway in the country, gazing up at the most beautiful display of stars. The constellations shine, thousands of little lights twinkling in the clearest of clear skies. There is a sweet breeze blowing, just enough to cool the evening warmth, but not enough to stir the tall grasses that house the families of fireflies.
In this moment, all is right.
Every last thing is right in my world. I am experiencing peace and everything for once is calm in my life.
I have caught myself thinking in terms of moments a lot lately. How things can change in a moment, for good or bad. So many things have been happening all at once that I feel like I haven't caught a breath in forever. Most happenings have not been positive. I have struggled to breathe, feeling as if my lungs have been coated in thick smoke, my moments spinning out of control and tumbling into hours, days, weeks, months. Moments full of hurt, heartache, pain.
But right now, in this moment, all is right, perfect even. This moment is cloudless, clutter free and I can breathe in the clean, country air and wonder at the miraculous night sky without worry casting a subsequent moments.
I imagine the next moment and the next and how perfectly perfect the cluster of moments will be as the breeze blows and the stars continue to shine. I imagine I get up after celebrating in all of these moments and going into the house to the arms of a person who makes me smile like I haven't smiled in a long time, creating more harmonious moments. I find myself excited to look forward to the next moment and the next, knowing that they, too, will create wonderful memories to add to the rest of the evening's moments as I laugh and visit with my person. I allow myself, and that's really the key here, allowing myself, to project the possibility of tonight being the first of many amazing moments, with very few shrouded moments mixed among them.
There is so much power in a moment.
Even if I couldn't move forward, the moments did, their resiliency whispering, taunting almost. And I realize that the moments aren't going to stop just because I do. I realize that being able to chase them is better than just giving them up. I realize that being able to give a moment the chance that it needs to soar is much better than simply anticipating the moment to crumble. And even if that moment collapses into itself, there is always the next moment that could redeem it.
So right now, I choose to revel in the here and now, embracing each and every moment as it comes, not anticipating, not condemning, not holding it at arm's length, but embracing it, choosing to accept what it has to offer, simply in this moment.