This morn­ing while I savored the aroma, heat and fla­vor of my first latte of the day, snug­gled cozily in bed with the pil­lows propped up against the wall, Nena at my feet, Chanel at my side and Bat­man on a mis­sion to catch an imag­i­nary bird fly­ing around the house, I checked Face­book and Twitter.

I bit my lip because it seemed every­where I looked peo­ple were happy it was Fri­day, happy the week had passed. They didn’t even want to expe­ri­ence the day — they wanted to jump right to the end of it. My fin­gers began to work their trick­ery in the sta­tus field…

Does any­one “savor the moment” these days? I see a bazil­lion posts about tomor­row, tonight, next week, look­ing for­ward to Fri­days.… what about the moment we are in? This moment too is mar­velous and to be savored. You’ll never get it back so unless it is unwrench­ingly intol­er­a­ble, wish­ing it away and try­ing to pull the future for­ward is wish­ing your life away… liv­ing it is much more rewarding.

It seems life passes so many peo­ple by. How often I hear, where did the time go, it was just yes­ter­day (last week, last year)? Is it a sign of the times that peo­ple are liv­ing rote lives?

Have you ever sat qui­etly watch­ing a clock? Why is it so dif­fi­cult for most peo­ple to relax watch­ing it tick, enjoy­ing the rhythm of the tim­ing? Time passes much more slowly when you watch it. It seems to make many peo­ple feel uncom­fort­able to sit idly “not doing any­thing”. My grand­mother used to say “a watched pot never boils” and I used to chal­lenge it. I learned to notice every sec­ond with every tick of the sec­ond hand and real­ize I would never see those moments again.

Each moment should be felt and cel­e­brated, when it passes it’s gone for­ever. So OK, maybe all moments aren’t the ones you jump for joy over, some hurt. But, they are the ones you learn from, the ones that make you feel to the core of your being that you are alive and that you are sig­nif­i­cant and insignif­i­cant all at the same time.

Do you ever just sit and look at your fin­gers, watch them move, be con­scious of them and then men­tally move to your wrists, arms, shoul­ders, up the back of your neck, to the top of your head, to your fore­head.. down to the bot­toms of your feet? Are you con­scious of your heartbeat?

I admit that each night as I reflect on the day and look for­ward to the next as I drift off to sleep, I am a lit­tle bit sad­dened that I now have one less day left in my life.  They’re all so grand I wish none would ever end.

Day, n.  A period of twenty-four hours, mostly mis­spent.  ~Ambrose Bierce