Just one moment

I am convinced this semester did not exist. I do not know what time is anymore. I am no longer interested in worrying about how fast it goes.

Now continue reading as I completely contradict that wishful statement.

Talking about time can stink, because the nearest elderly person will say, “Just you wait” or “It only goes faster.”

Then when I talk to younger friends, I find myself passing on the same old tropes. “You have no clue, you two-years-my-junior whipper-snapper!”

I fear making some broad proclamation about the passage of time, because I fear being a senior in two years or a senior citizen in 40 and laughing at myself. Yet I will probably laugh at myself anyway for trying to even anticipate my reaction during those eventual moments.

If at any point you find yourself anticipating an anticipation, it’s time for bed. Or politics. No, wait ... bed.

I just don’t know what to do about it anymore. People say to live in the moment, but the moment’s already gone now.

I suppose the point is not to think about the moment, because if you do, you will realize it’s gone and get depressed.

But for me, whenever I don’t think about the moment, bad things happen. When I’m not consciously attending to the moment, I trip down the stairs, forget my homework or crash into a similarly moment-less pedestrian.

Does this make life some kind of uneasy combination of living in the moment and living out of it as an observer? Do we choose which ones are important enough for us to live in?

I’d have to assume we all have little automatic pilots inside us.

Nobody’s in the moment when they’re waiting on the elevator or waiting in line to get a sandwich. How about flipping burgers at work, making your bed or mopping the kitchen?

It’d be difficult to find a reason to live in the moment when you’re using the bathroom.

Well, maybe except for Larry Craig, whom I hope you remember was that senator who allegedly played footsie with an undercover cop in an airport bathroom. What an awkward one that must have been.

See what happens when you live in the wrong moment?

I suppose what makes the moment so much fun is that you can share it with people. I’m sorry that genuine sentiment had to segue off the Larry Craig thing, but that’s not what I’m talking about right now.

I mean the fun moments: the ones with loved ones and friends that truly bewilder you as to what any of that “moment” stuff means.

Those moments when summer rolls around, the family’s back together and old friends come back to town.

Or for others, those moments when you go out to explore the world, looking for your joy.

Those moments when you’re in your place, at peace or contentedly in search of them.

Those moments that become good times, and those good times that become “those days.”

— chagiff@indiana.edu