This has been the longest year of my life.

Not because of pain and misery, although there’s been plenty of those. Also joy, peace, stillness, and clarity. And grit. Lots of grit.

Was it only June that Wonder Woman came out? Was it only August when my son left for college? Has it only been 8 weeks since meditation became a daily part of my life?

*actual thoughts I’ve had recently*
(And yes, thoughts are things we possess rather than things we are. #languageNerd)

Misery forces us down into the moment, but that’s not why the days of this past year have stretched and stretched. It’s because I lived fully awake a much higher percentage of those days (and gotten plenty of sleep as well).

A long life and a long day are two separate things, are they not?

Our language holds all the meaning of our culture. Why do we complain of long days but celebrate long lives? Why the hurry for the time we have, right now, to pass? We say a “long and full” life because long isn’t sufficient. Long is misery. Being present is feeling too much, seeing too much, experiencing it all. That’s overwhelming and hard, so we distract away our days and are grateful for it… but while we’re whiling away our lives, or hectically running through them, we’re not actually *living* them.

We know this, the better, wiser parts of us. We know that endlessly chasing the endless to-do lists, re-living the angers of the past, and anxiously awaiting uncertain futures are no ways to BE. And yet we fill our moments with those while simultaneously wishing for more time.

Being present stretches every moment, and moments are all we actually have.

I’ve finally discovered the time turner.

And this has been the longest year of my life.

(Original post here.)