All that matters is ‘the moment’

One of my favourite “what life is really about” pieces of writing was penned by the very, very wise female columnist, Mary Schmich, which garnered her the Pulitzer Prize for Commentary in 2012.
Reading it slowly (and it’s best said out loud) takes about five minutes and holds, in my humble opinion, some of the best third-party advice I’ve ever absorbed.
Prior to Schmich’s award for her most sage thoughts, her gem of creation was immortalized worldwide on radio and music label by the brilliant film director, Baz Luhrman (of “Moulin Rouge,” “Australia,” and “The Great Gatsby” fame), when he recorded the commentary and it set to music.
I should listen to it more often because there is many a day when I still need to be reminded of what matters most.
This self-proposed “song of life” is the reality check.
If you are familiar with the words, then you’ll understand when I declare I am among the people (now well over 40 years of age) who really don’t know what they want to do with their life.
However, not knowing doesn’t mean I’m in chaos or unhappy. Where I am–or am not–in this great big world, and that things will continue to change, makes for great adventure.
I only get one shot at this particular shift on Earth and I’m keeping the door open to further possibilities, known and unknown, until long after my hair is completely grey and thinning.
“Don’t worry about the future; or worry, but know that worrying is as effective as trying to solve an algebra equation by chewing bubble gum. The real troubles in your life are apt to be things that never crossed your worried mind; the kind that blindside you . . . on some idle Tuesday.”
So don’t text and drive. Period.
Oh, yes, and I’m supposed to dance–even if it’s only in my living room by myself. And sometimes I do, like a champion from the “Dancing with the Stars” TV show (and I win every time).
What I know, for sure, is that I should dance more often with my “G-force.” Dancing definitely is better in twos, at midnight, even if I step on your toes.
The words of wisdom also encourage us to “Understand that friends come and go, but with a precious few you should hold on.”
That quote resonated with me Saturday night in the midst of a phenomenal local restaurant soirée, watching the night unfold in a crowd of people I barely knew while sitting across from friends who trumpet “life out loud,” and sitting next to the man with whom I so cherish my time.
That all of us in that room were millionaires in our gatherings, enjoying the root of all that matters: the moment.
We were together in precious commonalities of laughter, acceptance, and great conversations. Those are the gifts that trump all the negatives out there.
The song of life commentary is “Wear Sunscreen.” Read it. YouTube it. Take it to heart.