Have you ever found yourself just going through the motions?

Life is a nonstop parade of minutes, hours and days — a steady string of magical moments that we can choose to use as we see fit. And the manner in which we use or abuse these irreplaceable moments shapes the lives we get to enjoy.

— Unknown

If you’re a regular reader of this blog then you know that in my 2009 year-end post, Objects in the Rearview Mirror, I greeted the New Year with this declaration of independence:

I’m hoping that, like a Hoberman Sphere, I can expand my heart to embrace the adventure that lies before me… I’m puttin’ on my dancing shoes – so, 2010, cha cha cha!

And shortly thereafter, in an effort to supplement my not-so-daily walks, I joined a twice-a-week Zumba® exercise class.  (Golly gee, do ya’ think there was some subconscious doings going on in there??)  For those of you who haven’t been to a Zumba class, it’s dance-aerobics done to pulsating latin music. It’s fun, challenging and invigorating.  Usually.

But the other day I was simply going through the motions in class, with little or no energy and certainly no joy. My action and energy reflected a lackluster attitude of mental and psychic fatigue; I was tired. I was distracted and discouraged. I was unwittingly succumbing to overwhelm.  You’ve been there – to overwhelm – haven’t you?  It’s when your life circumstances demand: More, more, more!  And your brain (and body and soul) cry: Enough already!

Then I had a flash of great genius (Smirk):

Hey Ellie – as long as you’re here, make it count!  I mean, if you’re not going to work at it, why bother to show up?  Showing up means being in the here and now and doing what needs to be done.  Or, at the very least, the best you can at this moment in time.  Otherwise, go home and do something else that you can put your heart and soul into… even if it’s a nap.  At least then you can give whatever comes next your best shot!

Well, right then and there I shifted gears – I started feeling and working the music; I started moving my arms as well as my feet.  I put some “English” (or in this case, some “Zumba”) into my steps… and, Ta-da! I began enjoying the moment. I’d broken through the overwhelm.  Yay.

And while I’ll never be the dancer that the front-of-the-room folks are – my two left feet get even more mixed-up when my two left arms join the dance – still, I can have fun, burn calories and renew myself, body, mind and spirit…by simply making the moment count, doing the best I can in the here and now.

The Learning Curve of Gratitude

On NPR’s This I Believe Mary Chapin Carpenter tells of her journey out of depression after suffering a pulmonary embolism…

I found my lifeline at the grocery store.

One morning, the young man who rang up my groceries and asked me if I wanted paper or plastic also told me to enjoy the rest of my day. I looked at him and I knew he meant it. It stopped me in my tracks. I went out and I sat in my car and cried.

What I want more than ever is to appreciate that I have this day, and tomorrow and hopefully days beyond that. I am experiencing the learning curve of gratitude.

I don’t want to say “have a nice day” like a robot. I don’t want to get mad at the elderly driver in front of me. I don’t want to go crazy when my Internet access is messed up. I don’t want to be jealous of someone else’s success. You could say that this litany of sins indicates that I don’t want to be human. The learning curve of gratitude, however, is showing me exactly how human I am.

I don’t know if my doctors will ever be able to give me the precise reason why I had a life-threatening illness. I do know that the young man in the grocery store reminded me that every day is all there is, and that is my belief.

Tonight I will cook dinner, tell my husband how much I love him, curl up with the dogs, watch the sun go down over the mountains and climb into bed. I will think about how uncomplicated it all is. I will wonder at how it took me my entire life to appreciate just one day.

Carpenter’s road to recovery took an abrupt and positive turn once she stepped onto the learning curve of gratitude… she had taken the first tentative step toward healing herself whole.  She’d decided to make whatever she does count.

Every Day Is All There Is

We can all learn from her experience.  We can learn to appreciate each moment in time.  We can heed the words my late husband used to close each of his cancer-journey missives to friends and family:

Live today to the fullest because tomorrow is not promised.

Time goes by minute by minute. Let’s make it count! And for those times when we don’t have the psychic energy to do much, then let’s give ourselves permission to take the best break, nap, or retreat we can so that we when we then return to our “life” we return refreshed and revitalized, ready to get on with the business of living one moment at a time.

We say we waste time, but that is impossible.  We waste ourselves.

— Alice Bloch

Do you have a way to shift from “going through the motions” to making each moment count?