Tuesday, January 11, 2011

December 3 – Moment

December 3 – Moment. Pick one moment during which you felt most alive this year. Describe it in vivid detail (texture, smells, voices, noises, colors).

Most times, I live outside my body. I focus too much on textures, smells, voices, noises, colors. I’m self diagnosed ADHD, as most times I have trouble truly focusing on one thing and instead take in little bits of everything else.


I find myself drifting in and out of conversations because of the distracting world around me; I really am interested in what you say, but I can’t help but analyze your body language and non-verbal communication. I smell the perfume or cologne you’re wearing or notice how a particular color, pattern, or fabric lays upon you.


Sometimes I love that I do it, but other times it really is quite the burden.


But the first time I read this prompt, I thought of one particular moment; I felt so alive and in the moment---so much so that I don’t recall anything else that happened around me.


I was in a bar with some friends. It’s a loud and rowdy karaoke hole-in-the-wall—my favorite. It’s always bustling with activity and swimming with drunken renditions of Journey and boyband songs.

That one night, I ran into a friend, one I hadn’t talked to in months. It made me sad as we were very close, and then we simply fell apart. I’m still not sure what happened. When I noticed him, it was all I could focus on—it felt weird not wrapping him in a giant hug and exchanging jokes and funny anecdotes. It felt unnatural to treat him like a stranger. But, still healing from the pain of the separation we’d had, I didn’t know what else to do.


Right before he left that night, he came up to me. We hugged. And there in the middle of the bar, locked in embrace, he apologized. He genuinely apologized. He told me how bad he had felt, especially for the pain it had caused me. How he missed having me as a friend.


At that moment, everything came together. Every ounce of me focused on that moment, savored each ticking second. The karaoke, the drunken laughter, the crowds of people shuffling by us—everything faded. I existed right then, and only then, and only in those inches of space between his voice and my ear. The heart deep inside of me that had been struggling to breathe the past few months finally inhaled its first, fresh, sweet breath. I had my friend back, and I never wanted to let go; I was so afraid I’d lose him again.

As he left, I simply stood there alone, wiping away the tears, still lost in a lull of emotion. It wasn’t until someone from a nearby table spoke my name. And to this day, I still remember being startled; I picked my head up and looked around and for a brief moment, I had forgotten where I was, forgotten the bar I had known so well. Everything suddenly felt strange and foreign.


After a split second to get my bearings, life continued on. The karaoke tunes flooded back in, the drunken rowdiness continued. Life was just the way it had left off—except the hole in my heart had been filled.


It was a good feeling.

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