It's a chilly Monday morning. Outside, the sky is a bit overcast, but I can see places where the blue and the sunlight are working to burn through. To my right, I've glanced at the collection of journals from across my life. Some of them are older than my kids. Part of me is tempted to flip through the thoughts of a much younger Gallowglas, but I'm going to pass. Maybe another morning. Today, I'm working on this Monday Musing before heading off to experience the day.

Past me would have stopped and spent time going through the journals and reveled or wallowed in those memories. And by "past me," I'm talking about me from a couple of months ago. I was far more easily distractible. Lately, through therapy and my DBT class, I've been really working on mindfulness and being present. Choosing not to wander off into every little sidequest that presents itself has made a huge difference in the quality of my moments. When I'm doing something, I'm fully doing the thing.

Yesterday, I went to a Super Bowl party, not because I like football, but because I wanted to hang out with a bunch of my friends I knew would be there. Partway through the afternoon, I got the urge to work on a short story I've been fiddling with. I got my bag with my journals and pens, set up at the outside counter, and started writing. I got a couple of paragraphs, but people kept coming and talking to me. The writing wasn't as focused as I could make it, and I wasn't being as attentive to my friends as I should have. Then, I remembered that I wasn't there to work. I was there to socialize with my friends. Once I put my journals and pens away and focused my attention on the purpose for getting out of the house, I had an awesome time. My heart sang with extroverted energy.

After the Super Bowl party, I went fusion dancing. Even when I wasn't dancing, I left my phone in my pocket. I didn't side quest to Wordel. I let the music wrap around me, watched other dancers (which can be a great joy), and talked with friends who were there, including someone I haven't seen in months and months, who I absolutely adore. We had a great conversation.

Every moment is a distinct and unique reality.

I just came up with that thought. I like it.

I've been sitting at my computer looking at that sentence. Pondering. Contemplating. Being present with it. Staying in the moment with it. Not really analyzing it. Rather, just sitting here, letting the words play over and overin my head.

Every moment is a distinct and unique reality.

Or, as the great Ferris Bueller once said, "Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it."

Months ago, I was sitting at a red light on my way from pub trivia to fusion dancing. The wind blew a white plastic bag through the intersection so that it looked almost as if the bag was doing slow cartwheels along the street. The white of it contrasted with the black of the tarmac, and its progress was a steady: rise, rotate, touch the ground, rise, rotate, touch the ground, etc... The moment filled me with awe. I can still, months later, feel my breath gasping at the stark beauty of that moment, and I am the only person in the history of this vast universe to bear witness to that bacg cartwheeling across the intersection.

Every moment is a distinct and unique reality.

How many new realities have we missed by ignoring this present by dwelling on the past or worrying about the future?