The Delicious Present

I left my house at 8:30 this morning headed for an appointment with my doctor. About 10 minutes away from home (and 15 minutes from the doctor's) I realized I'd forgotten my phone. Instant panic. I thought, "oh my God, how will I know if someone's emailed? And what if someone calls? Plus, that's my watch!" After a few moments of a quickening pulse I came to my senses. "It's only a phone. I'll survive."

For the remainder of my drive, I pushed away a few impulses to grab my phone, my imaginary phone, from my pocket. And while in the waiting room, I felt that familiar twinge when I saw my fellow waiters all happily, or perhaps maniacally, tapping away at their phones.

And then I settled in.

I looked around the waiting room at the colors of the walls and the curves and corners of the furniture. Then I glanced through the window to see big white fluffy snowflakes floating down from the sky. While each flake took it's own gentle journey to the ground, the combination of the wind's influence and each flake's choice of speed and path created a somewhat chaotic and furious dance of white streaks, bobs and swirls.

In that moment I realized that I've been missing a lot with my constant attention to what other people want to be saying to me. Like the individual flakes, we each get to choose our journey. Rather than pay attention to fury and chaos of others, I chose to focus on my own path.

After my appointment I could have rushed home to get my phone. Instead, I went to a restaurant for a good, slow meal. I wrote a little while I waited for that meal to arrive. When it came, I put my pen and paper aside and tasted every single bite, unaware of the time or emails or text messages or phone calls. My meal – and my time in the present – was delicious.

What path will you chose today? What will you savor? Tell me your story.