Enjoying This Moment

I recently signed a new lease. I'm moving to a city I've wanted to live in since I understood what it was, with one of my closest friends, right underneath another dear friend. In simpler terms, I'll be living with two close girlfriends in a place I love, and I'm more prepared for this move than my past ones. This week has been the first time in months that I'm allowing myself to step back and enjoy the present. Writing without it leaving my journal, going to the beach with a book I won't learn anything from but enjoy. I went out to dinner last night. I bought nachos and a drink. Of course I wanted to write on my blog, but I feel like I would be bragging if I said all of this without expressing the question I've come to face this week. Why don't I do this more?

Not the dinners or the beach, but recognizing my wins. Not even recognizing, but lingering in them. Basking in the fact that something worked out and things are going to plan without thinking about how behind I am on my other five projects.

I believe part of it comes from habit. I know I'm not the only one who feels this way. Most people do, and those people, just like I, have been taught to move on quickly and check the next box. To measure our success by what comes after rather than what exists in this moment. My article, The Art of Slow Living, briefly touches on people holding pride in that pace, but that inevitably leaves little room for us to be present. To me, it's easier to dismiss the good moments and focus on what other good moments I want. But if I sit in what I just accomplished and had been complaining about for the last month, I don't just appreciate the tangible success, but I appreciate all of the effort that was put into it.

It's different than other things I've been taught to value. I have the ability to sit in this alignment, and it's quiet. Aside from my roommate and I playing Merry Xmas (War is Over) by John Lennon. That was my choice, it just felt fitting for the competitive market we had been in for too long. Getting this apartment was a very quiet and normal win that I've done before, but the way I'm soaking it in changes my perspective on this.

If I had been anywhere other than where I am now, I might be forgetting this is a big deal. There wouldn't be a pause or moment of acknowledgment. Likely because when I put this on paper it sounds unnecessary, and if you know my family, you would know they are constantly onto the next thing. Nurture over nature or something. That might not be the proper use of that saying, let's move on.

Lingering is an indulgent act that feels selfish, but I think we should be selfish sometimes. Our habits move us forward without being aware of it, and pausing feels unnatural.

This doesn't have to involve a win. It could be sitting at the beach, watching a sunrise and not being able to shake all you must accomplish the upcoming day. Or talking to a customer and thinking about the laundry you have to finish when you get home. These are not so subtle, personal experiences, but to turn off that side of you that's thinking about tomorrow is uncomfortable.

Turning it off shouldn't need justification. These moments aren't a lesson or a sign for you to step into a larger plan, at least not in the moment. It's just the acknowledgment that what happened matters on its own. In the pause of appreciation, nothing else is required. You aren't obligated to analyze.

If you decide to analyze how this affects your life, big or small, you lose the original moment. The excitement disappears. Choosing to let it be its own thing rather than a transition makes life feel steady. It helps limit your worry and fear and just brings gratitude and peace.

Not in a dramatic way, but you stop searching for problems. You let something be good without immediately questioning it. I'll say it, I think most of us skip that part. We are right to be cautious. Being naive rarely works out. But that also means we naturally prepare for what could go wrong, and then everything turns into a checkpoint, until what? We finally decide that one thing is trustworthy enough? That would leave me feeling uneasy too often.

When you allow your mind to settle, you remember that not everything needs to be managed or improved. Some things are good just as they are. Things work out, and letting them work out is okay.