The Last Time…
Guess what? We’re halfway through NaBloPoMo, which means we’re halfway through November. I’m a little sad about that- November is one of my favorite months. I don’t want it to fly by too fast, but somehow it always does. Last week when I wrote about running the New York City Marathon, I was disappointed that I didn’t have any pictures of the day, from either of the times I ran it. It was the 1990s so we didn’t have cell phones. I remember people carrying disposable cameras to take pictures, but that never occurred to me. I probably thought I would be running it again, many times. I didn’t know that I would move away from New York or that it would become much harder to get into that marathon. I don’t know this for sure, but 1996 was probably the last time I’ll run the NYC Marathon. Had I known it then, I would have soaked in the experience more. Maybe I would have been one of the people with a disposable camera. In this article, David Cain examines a simple truth: You always know when you’re doing something for the first time, and you almost never know when you’re doing something for the last time. Everything you do, you will eventually do for the last time. If you knew it was the last time, you would undoubtably appreciate it so much more. You wouldn’t get distracted, think about something else, or get annoyed about silly things. You would be fully present and aware of every single moment. He gives the example of picking up your child for the last time- every parent, without knowing it at the time, picks up their child and puts him down for the final time. When I read that I longed to pick up my kids again! Is it really over? David suggests taking simple, mundane moments and behaving as if you’re doing them for the last time. Not in a depressing way, as in “If I get in a terrible car accident I’ll never be able to mow the lawn again!” but more of an exercise to become aware of how precious these activities really are. I did it the other day when I drove my daughter home from school. It’s a neutral activity, meaning that I don’t love it or hate it. It’s okay. I wait in the parking lot of a Publix across the street from the school, and she and a large group of kids all walk across the street (this way I avoid the car line.) As I sat there, I watched all the kids enter the parking lot, in groups or alone- I looked at what they were wearing, whether they were laughing or serious, how their parents greeted them. Then I saw my daughter walk into the lot, look around for my car and walk toward me. It was a bittersweet moment, because I’m acutely aware that there will eventually be a last day that I pick her up from school. She’ll grow up, life will go on, and I’ll look back longingly to the days where I drove her home. But there will also be a last time I wash the dishes, or feed the cats, or turn off the TV. These moments might not seem as poignant as driving my daughter home from school, but consider that they’re also finite, Occasionally imagine that you’re doing some of these everyday activities for the last time, and see how much you find to appreciate in them. If you like this idea, you can read more of David Cain’s articles on raptitude.com. a blog about “getting better at being human.” He writes about gratitude and being present, but not in an abstract way. He suggests exercises- like this one- that will give you a deeper appreciation for the moments of your life. Can you think of a moment when you knew you were doing something for the last time? Is there anything you look back on and think, “I wish I had known that was the last time!”