A moment's grace

Did you find it?

Do you live in the moment?

It seems like a good idea. Too often we’re either looking ahead to the next moment, or stuck in the last moment, wasting this one.

I still have a hard time with it though. Mostly because I think some moments are supposed to be wasted. They’re just not all keepers.

Like, say you’re walking the dog on a wet, soggy morning and you step on something that might be puke that sticks to your shoe and you’re late for work.

What do you do with a moment like that? I don’t want it. You take it.

While you’re at it, take the cavity-filling moments and the stuck-in traffic-moments and — please, please — the colorectal exam moments. But honestly, if you’re okay with living in those moments, you’re most likely medicated. Which I totally get.

In fact, it sounds like an ad for a new pharmaceutical. “Find happiness in every moment with new Bupupronoliumiceadembic*

*may cause diarrhea, vomiting, high-blood pressure, shingles and SARS.

I wouldn’t blame anyone for signing up for it. After all, I prescribed crack for myself, and I couldn’t begin to list all the side effects. Even then, believe it or not, I hated every moment and couldn’t get rid of them fast enough.

But now that I’m clean, I can’t help but recognize the varying quality of moments and the misguided advice I often get to live in them all. Even worse is when someone tells me to find joy in every moment — unless they’re talking about an actual person I know named Joy who would be a great person for anyone to find in a moment.

Maybe instead of trying to find happiness in every moment, we could find meaning. Don’t ask what’s stuck to your shoe on this miserable rainy bay, but why it’s stuck to your shoe. Then move outward from there. Why am I still here — an ex-addict, who had just cratered his life — walking in the rain with shit on my shoes?

And the answer is because I am. And that brings me joy. No, I’m not exactly singing in the rain with shit on my shoe. But I’m often filled with gratitude for being able to experience moments. Because they're always better than any moment I ever had on crack. And infinitely superior to where I was heading — a place where I wouldn’t have any moments at all.

My mom doesn’t believe in looking for joy in every moment either.

“That’s New Age bullshit,” she says. “It’s gratitude. You have to be thankful for every moment. Thankful to wake up in the morning. Thankful for breathing.

“Thankful,” she adds, “For a son.”

That made me smile. And I understood that you don’t have to look for joy in every moment. When you start being thankful for them, joy will find you.