It’s early in the morning. I’m on a commuter train. Wedged in with everyone else, I found the last seat in the carriage and asked if I could climb over legs to get there. I scooted the old newspaper and McDonalds bag out of my way. Now I have the tiniest space to myself and am holding my elbows in as I type, wondering if the woman next to me is looking. No, she is listening to her music, which pulses tinnily from her headphones. Warehouses and grafitti drone by in my vision as we crawl through South East London. I’ve got to cross town south to north, reaching way beyond Kings Cross into the badlands of Barnet. It will take a couple of hours. I’m bracing myself for the ride, looking forward already to getting there.
Are these the kind of ordinary moments that I say I want to be present for? The scrunchy, complicated, messy moments of discomfort? Annoying though it might be in the moment, the answer is yes. The moments I would wish away, they are ordinary moments too.
The most precious thing we have is time. How we choose to spend it is up to us, but it is fair to say that it is limited, allotted mysteriously, and goes fleeting fast. Once we turn to examine its passage, it is already gone.
Why spend any of those moments wishing them away? Why hope that life feels shorter than it already does?
Sometimes it requires more creativity than usual to find the joy in these spaces. Sometimes the petty irritations of details we would rather ignore get in the way. Sometimes we have to find a way to sit in the moment. Making something of it. Holding it without judgement. Holding it as an opportunity.
And in this messy, uncomfortable, complicated moment of discomfort, I have made something. I’ve turned my thoughts around. I’ve made a piece of writing, just for you. Look, there is St Pauls as we cross the river, obscured partly by Blackfriars Station, but still peeping over the glass. I’ve found an ordinary moment to share.
Take care of you .
Xxx