Right Now is Enough
What's the point of making sure we have lives well-lived? An age-old question that resurfaces and lurks in every corner of our lives. If we're just going to die, why bother?
Sometimes these questions pop up and feel HUGE - why did I have a kid if we're all going to die? Why do I bother doing anything ever? Also, if I wasted 10 years of my life by not getting promoted or not living out my dreams, am I a failure? Is it worth trying to start working on those dreams? Or is it all a loss because I wasn't working towards them the whole time?
The truth is, we're here. And the truth is, it matters because we're here right now. That's it. That's the answer.
Actually, right now is just a series of moments that connect us with the past and the future.
Right now, I am too hungry to plan a healthy meal, so I am going to sit and eat a small amount of crackers. Right now, my crackers gave me the energy and brain space to chop veggies and make something worth eating. Right now, I'm eating with gusto, enjoying either a goofy three-year-old’s conversation or relishing my own thoughts. Right now, I am tired, so I rest. Right now, since I rested, I have the energy to confront my fearsome enemy, the stack of dishes in my sink. Right now, I am tired from conquering my nemesis, the dirty dish stack, so I am going to sit and listen to some music. Right now, my mind is too busy to focus on the music, so I am going to dance to it. Right now, I am tired but not ready to pass out, so I'm going to go do my evening teeth and skincare routine so I can go to bed before I'm too exhausted. Right now, I am going to journal my hopes for tomorrow and my fears for tonight, so my dreams bring me peace.
Right now, my son is driving me crazy. Right now, I can choose to take a deep breath and ask him to try putting on his shirt again. Right now, I can take another deep breath and choose not to yell when he hits me out of frustration. Right now, I can make that choice again, again, and again. Right now, I am grateful for the oppressive bear hugs that I won't get when he's grown. And I can choose to save my stern voice for safety concerns and actual tantrums. But right now, I breathe, and we try again.
We will die someday, but we're alive for right now. And that is all that matters.