While thinking about what to write to kick off the New Year, I scanned the 52 articles I wrote last year. One stood out. It wasn’t about resolutions or setting goals for the future; instead, it focused on our perception of the present—the humdrum and seemingly mundane.
It’s such a profound and powerful truth that right now, while writing this article, it caused me to stop and take action.
It’s just after sunrise on December 29th. I’m sitting in my favorite blue chair, gazing out the window at the stunning red rocks surrounding Teresa’s and my Sedona home. It occurs to me that what I’m writing about, I’m not living. So, I’m putting my computer aside, getting up from my chair, and making right what I overlooked this morning.
I’m Back
What did I just do? I walked into the next room and gave Teresa a heartfelt, thirty-second hug. Then, before I sat down, I walked out onto the patio (it’s 41°) and took in the glory of the brisk air and sun glistening off the red rocks, wondering how many generations before me saw the same from their caves and tents.
I took this photo while on a motorcycle ride in the Upper Peninsula of Michigan.
Why did I do that? Because this article reflects on overlooked moments, the fleeting nature of life, the importance of what may seem mundane.
The Beauty of a Moment
In a picturesque village in Japan, an elderly sage once gathered a group of children beneath the fleeting bloom of cherry blossoms. He shared, “Each spring, these blossoms burst into life, their beauty unmatched yet momentary. They remind us to treasure every moment, for like the cherry blossoms, they are transient.”
Mystery Spots
I used to take long, cross-country motorcycle rides with Tex, Bruce, Klee, and other great friends. Those were among my best times in life, yet it’s crazy that I can’t remember our last ride together. Did I know at the time it would be our last ride? Surely not. Would I have appreciated it more if I had? Surely yes.
I do remember Bruce scolding me one day because I seemed too hurried to explore when we’d see one of those giant “Mystery Spot” signs pointing down a narrow back road. I’d typically say, “next time.”
One night while having dinner with the guys after a fun day on the road, Bruce leaned over, put his mouth to my ear, and said, “Remember that Mystery Spot sign today, the one you decided to check out next time? Greg, life doesn’t promise a next time.”
Relishing the Routine
Do you, like me, sometimes take for granted what seems routine? I didn’t let that happen this morning. I savored that hug with Teresa, the view from my blue chair, the brisk air and sunshine on the patio. I look forward to more moments like those… but you never know.
I took this photo from our patio in Sedona while writing this article.
Back on New Year’s Day in 1984 when I gave a goodbye hug to my dad, Chubby, after a holiday visit to Cincinnati, I had no idea that would be our last hug. Human departures are often veiled in the ordinary, making them unexpectedly final. It pains me to say it, to think it, but any moment could be a final memory.
John Lennon aptly said, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”
I might add, “Life is what’s wasted when we overlook the moments we have.”
We plan. We look ahead. We strive for a better future. But do we fully appreciate the present, those seemingly inconsequential moments?
In 2025, at least for me, I will try not to forget that a great danger in life is to not appreciate every moment of life. Life unfolds, life passes by, and life should not be a series of overlooked moments.
