Reverb 10, Day 3 Moment.
Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).
The great thing about taking December as a month of reflection, is that, despite wondering how the year flew by so quickly, I’m looking back and realizing just how long a year actually is (which is quite empowering as we face a new one).
In a year filled to the brim with moments, how do I pick one? How can I possibly remember everything that has happened from my “and then I cried and ate a burrito” moment (yeah, that story’s coming…and it’s awesome) until now, as I sit typing? This morning, I couldn’t even remember which shade I used on my left eye by the time I got to my right eye (believe it or not, I don’t wear my makeup like a whore when I go to work, so no, it wasn’t obvious because, yes, the four shades in that palette are similar and yes, I guessed wrong and ironically, now my eye makeup IS slightly whore-ish today).
I’m tempted to draw from (very) recent memories. This morning (before the eye shadow disaster), I completed my first pace run for my half training. And like, I did it. 3 miles, 30 minutes. I’ve never done that and am amazed what I can do when I tell myself I’m going to do it, damn it. Or, on Tuesday, I had my last sesh with my trainer (he tried to pitch me for more, but his pretty little caramel eyes don’t make $700 just appear in my bank account), and he gave it to me hard (yeah, he did), but afterward, I felt like a million bucks.
Fitness is important and fun to me, so during or after a great sweat, when my body reminds me of the amazing things it can do, I feel quite alive.
But a moment that happened in the last 72 hours can’t possibly be it, can it? Nah.
I feel alive when I feel like I’m living well. “Live the width of your life, not just the length of it,” and all that crap.
So, searching my memories for a welcome to the good life moment, I’ve come up with this…
This is the breakfast I had on my first day of my solo San Diego vacation. It was barely September, but they were having a Fall preview (a special treat for me coming from Arizona’s 110 degree never-ending summer). I woke up to rain. This beach vacation (I didn’t need to swim or tan or even wear a bikini at all, I just wanted to awe at the ocean) was my reward for surviving 14 months in hell (old job), a break before starting a new adventure (new job, new city, new life?).
Rain or no, I was doing it. I layered up and headed to downtown La Jolla. By the time I got there, the air was brisk, but the rain had stopped and the clouds were rolling through. I was expecting hustle and bustle, but the dreary morning seemed to have kept other vacationers and the RHSD at home.
It was early and one of the only storefronts even open was a small bakery. When I walked in, I discovered that this was clearly the place to be. People I’m assuming were regulars dotted the tables. The workers hustled and bustled behind the counter and looked relieved when I just ordered coffee because they could hand me a mug and point to the self-serve carafe.
I picked a simple chocolate croissant to accompany my coffee and since I felt like I was moving in slow motion compared to everyone in the crowded shop, I took my treats outside and sat. That is all. I sat and I enjoyed the weather. I enjoyed the view. I enjoyed the quiet. I enjoyed my company.
It kind of seems like a sad moment to pick – drinking black coffee alone on a dreary day in a deserted destination town, but it was GOOD black coffee and in the quiet, I was happy.
I’m not very zen. Not good at quiet. Too often, I ignore what I truly want.
But, everything about that moment slowed me down and allowed me to focus on me. And everything was just what I wanted. San Diego, the bakery, the small table out on the sidewalk, chocolate-filled flakey pastry deliciousness (for breakfast!), solitude and a whole day ahead of me for more of the same.