Stop rushing and make time matter

I was running late.  I was scrambling to get to a meeting. I was rushing like a crazy woman.

Running around the corner to the steps I stubbed my toe on the book case.  I hit it with such force, I both swore and  knocked a picture to the floor.

"Ugh!! I am so late!" I said outloud as I picked the picture up.

I sat on the steps and stared at my parents as my toe began its throbbing ache. (Or was that the ache in my heart?)

In those few moments I thought about time. 

Rushing  is a waste of time.

Rushing makes us clumsy. Dealing with clumsy takes even more time.

When we do one thing at a time and 
When we are present to that one thing,
We actually become more efficient.

A meaningful life is simply made up of meaningful moments.

Rushing creates a busy life but rarely a meaningful one.

Next time you are running late:

Stop rushing.

Take a breath.

Do one thing at time.

Make each thing meaningful.

The world doesn't end if you are late to something.

Your world ends when you miss the present moment.

Blessings,
Virginia

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The Same Gate

In a quest to quiet my mind I came across this poem.

Inside the great mystery that is,
We do not really own anything.

What is this competition we feel then,
before we go, one at a time, through the same gate. Rumi

It gave me shivers and brought me back to center where I know and you know all that is true.

*Time is precious. Tomorrow is not promised to any one of us.

* Life is short. Too short for comparisons. Too short to even spend one second believing we are less than or more than anybody else.

* Listen to your soul's calling and take immediate action.

* When the gate arrives, all that will really matter is how you choose to love right now.

Blessings,
Virginia

Robbing time

When I was in my 20s, I remember my dad reminiscing about years gone by. It was just the two of us sitting in the living room together. He was telling me stories of when my nine older siblings and I were small children.

His eyes glistened as he stated, "Those were the best years of my life, Gin-Gin."

His sadness bothered me. I wanted my dad with me at that moment, not lost in days gone by. I simply couldn't wrap my 20 year old brain around then being better than now.

I dropped my eldest off to college last week.

My emotions have been all over the place. I have spent many hours reminiscing of years past. I am guilty of feeling just as my dad did 30 years ago. As I look at all of the pictures of us on the walls I wonder, "Were those really the best years of my life?"

Memories are tricky and selective. Pictures are snapshots of  happy times.

Then is not better than now.

Looking back can be fun, but too much looking back robs time to appreciate now,

Time

When I was a mom with little ones I was always taken aback with comments like,"These are the best years of your life,"  "Enjoy them while they are little," or the all too famous, "Ha! Just wait until they become teenagers."

I vowed to never be like that when my children grew up, which at the time, seemed like an eternity away. I vowed to enjoy my children forever, even as teenagers and to never wish for days gone by.  For the most part I have.

But lately as I round the corner into the kitchen, I sometimes stop in my tracks and stare in awe.

I simply cannot wrap my head around the passing of time. I sometimes close my eyes and recall memories of the 18 years between those two pictures. I have even shed a tear or two.

                                                                         Time