These two, seemingly paradoxical thoughts, I’ve found myself reminding myself of in sequence lately.
When I was running every Saturday morning with Venice Run Club, there was a neon sign on a store near the boardwalk that had this scrawled out. Or maybe it was an office; I’m not sure. It struck me how there is both a call to present appreciation—when I floated by dripping in the euphoria of “runner’s high”—and a promise of its passing, which I felt more of a promise in during painful runs (one step closer to over than before).
When I feel myself yearning to hold onto a moment, too, I invite myself to find ways to see how I can make it, in a way last or be accessible forever. What’s the essence of the experience that I could bottle up and have for any moment? And then I can find ways to recreate that in changing, present circumstances.
Most recently, it was sitting by the pool in Ibiza after a dip, lazily reading alongside lounging loved ones, relaxed, unhurried, peaceful and fully at ease. I don’t live there (yet), so it’s not an “always” situation. And, the feelings of it, giving the scene its texture, color and taste, are something I can take with me as souvenirs and recreate. Unstructured time outside, slowness, taking in the elements, appreciation and openness.
As I play around with it, I’m finding it can make life, in a way, a forever holiday of changing scenery.