Thornton Wilder wrote a play called “Our Town,” about a small, ordinary town and the people who live there. The main character is Emily, and the play follows her journey from childhood to marriage and, finally, her death at a young age. After her funeral, Emily speaks with others who have died and expresses her desire to go back and look at her life. The dead warn against this, telling her that it will hurt her. But Emily chooses to go back and observe just one day—her twelfth birthday. As she watches her family on that day, she’s heartbroken that none of them seem to notice how extraordinary it is to be alive. She wants desperately to make them truly see each other and their value before it’s too late. She wants them to appreciate the sheer ordinariness of life going on around them. But they don’t, and a disheartened Emily goes to her grave, making this farewell speech:
“Good-bye, Grover’s Corners. . . Mama and Papa. Good-bye to clocks ticking. . . and Mama’s sunflowers. And food and coffee. And new ironed dresses and hot baths. . . and sleeping and waking up. Oh, earth, you are too wonderful for anybody to realize you!”
Turning to the Stage Manager, she asks, “Do any human beings ever realize life while they live it—every, every minute?”
The Stage Manager answers, “No. The saints and poets, maybe. They do some.”
I do. I’m not a saint and only a sometimes poet. But I do realize life while I live it—every minute. Learning how to do that has been one of the most beautiful parts of my journey in recovery. It’s also been one of the hardest. I spent ten years of my life using drugs and alcohol to numb myself from all feelings, especially pain, fear, and depression. When I got sober, I had to learn to feel again. And every feeling overwhelmed me. I didn’t know how to cope with such floods of emotion. Even joy frightened me because I was so unfamiliar with the experience of feeling it. Jack Kerouac described this sense of being overwhelmed when he wrote, “It’s all too much and not enough at the same time.” Feeling all of that “too much” and “not enough” nearly drove me to relapse, many times.
Very slowly, though, with the help of my sponsor and my friends in recovery, I started learning how to handle my feelings. When I was in pain of any kind, instead of reaching for the first substance I could find to dull it, I learned to sit with it—to let myself feel it without reacting impulsively to it. And when the first moments of joy came, I learned to be still, lean in, and relish every second of those moments. I don’t do this perfectly, and many times, I fail miserably at it. But I’m learning. And I’m discovering that I want to feel. I want to feel all of it—the pain, the joy, the beauty, the heartbreak—because every one of those feelings reminds me that I’m alive, aware, and present.
I was alive but not aware or present for the ten years of my addiction. And I missed so much. My nieces and nephews grew from toddlers to teenagers, and I wasn’t a part of any of it. Relationships in my family changed and grew, and I wasn’t there for that, either. Choosing oblivion cost me countless precious moments that I can’t ever get back. So I’m determined now to choose to feel those moments, even when it hurts. And it does—many times. But then there are those moments of beauty where I see the face of someone I love, or I look up and am treated to a masterpiece of God’s creation.
I was doing exactly that—looking up at God’s creation—in the Walmart parking lot one summer night when I’d been in recovery for about a year. As I looked at the moon, my sponsor walked up to us. I gladly introduced him to Monty, then told them both to look up at the moon. It was a perfect, full yellow moon, and I didn’t want them to miss it. My sponsor glanced up at the moon, then looked at me and grinned. “You’ve caught fire,” he said. “This is one of my favorite parts of the recovery process.” I asked him what he meant, and he said that over his many, many years of sobriety, he’d had the privilege of sharing the recovery program with countless people. “Some don’t make it,” he said. “But the ones who do? They see the vision of recovery, and they catch fire. They learn to burn for something other than themselves. They notice the moon.”
May days.
(Click image to view photo slideshow.)
Photos by Monty Phillips.
I’m no mathematician, but according to my calculations, during my wasted years, I missed seeing over 120 full moons. I don’t want to miss anymore of the poetry of living. I want my soul to burn with the passionate fire of someone who is fully engaged in every single moment of life. Living with awareness and engagement isn’t always easy. We all have a rhythm to our lives, and we can get so absorbed in that rhythm that before we know it, years have passed without us noticing. We don’t even see the beautiful moments in our days—the sunflowers and coffee that Emily of “Our Town” talked about. We live as though we have endless time to appreciate those moments. But how many months of May do we get in a lifetime—how many perfect May days, filled with showers of crabapple blossoms, the scent of lilacs, and skies so clear and blue you feel you could disappear into them? How many more summers do we have—where we smell the barbeque grills, hear the cicadas in the trees, and feel the sun on our necks?
Let me be your Emily of “Our Town” and beg you before it’s too late: notice the moments. Notice the moments that make up your days. Feel them. They’re finite. The faces you see around you won’t always be there. The joys that you take for granted now will change. Emily discovered too late that life must be realized “while you live it—every, every minute.” Wherever you are right now, notice the moment and feel it. There are no ordinary days when you start really seeing and feeling the moments that compose them. Don’t miss them. Fan that spark in your soul into flame and burn brightly every minute you’re alive. Every, every minute.
“We spend our days wishing and dreaming, yet it isn’t until we are lying in our grave that we begin to claw towards them.”Will Bortz
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Comments 14
Let me try to add another comment?
I try to live in the moment and most often do so through creating something. I am gifted to live in the moment as I create, it helps me realize each moment of time and to absorb the moment and its message. Once I finish creating it goes to my grandchildren, my daughters or friends and through it I hope to create the gift of ” the moment”for them. At times God wants me to rest and wants to gift to me personally and as such stops me and tells me to go ” smell the roses” so to speak! and when I do rest in the moment, He gives me to hear that bird sing, to see the butterfly dart by, to absorb His nature or to just go out and indeed smell the roses and their delicate fragrance to remind me of His holy Spirit fragrance.
Every moment counts, every day does, we never know if we will enjoy another day, so it is imperative we continue to live in the moment!
Klara–it was worth the wait. Thank you. Your poetry and collages and quilts are such markers of the moment–and treasures to those of us blessed enough to have them. You’re very right about how creating something helps to be present and “smell the roses.” For me, that’s through writing. I just didn’t realize it until you said it! I find, like you, that if you ask for those moments, God showers them upon you–they’re everywhere if you look. Love to you–and gratitude for your persistence!
Dearest Renee, I have now tried 4 times. I shall keep it short to see if it will post. I think God wanted me to read your post over and over again, which I did, perhaps not as much for responding accurately to your post, but for me to get the message more profoundly? I agree with you writing and believe I try to live each moment to the fullest and yes at times I fail, but I try, knowing tomorrow mat never come. So thank You Lord for each moment of each day!
It worked! If Monty were awake, he’d be applauding.
In recovery myself, your posts speak right to my heart. This is what I love about people in recovery communicating with others in any format. We all share so much in common with how we felt in our addictions and then when we finally find our way out of that he’ll. I love your blog, thank you for sharing your light with the world.
Jennifer–you have no idea how much that means to me. Those of us in recovery do have so much in common–we survived. And every day we make the decision to thrive. Sometimes every hour. Thank you for reading my words and blessing me with yours. One day at a time!
Dear Renee,
It’s hard to remember which ones to read when I’m struggling since all your writings are one after another so good; I love this one!!!! Thank you for giving me things to think about every single day.
Love you!
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Lisa–thank you for such encouraging words. And I’m glad you liked this one. I love you, too, dear sister.
Absolutely beautiful and heartfelt my wonderful niece❣️
Thank you, Aunt Joyce!
I love this! I often get stuck in the thinking that “in a couple days, I’ll be able to…”. Instead, I need to enjoy the present like you say.
Oh, my Monty. You always, always enjoy the present moment. Where do you think I learned to do it?
Renee, all I can say is Wow. You started my ride, in a nice orderly fashion, a “stroll the park”, readingabout “Our Town”, an enjoyable, thoughtful movie, Emil y(Martha Scott) , George Gibbs(William Holden), Emily’s father(Guy Kibee), the mailman (Stuart Erwin), I have seen the movie, probably twice, enjoyable, on TCM. Emily looking down. After she died, seeing the people not really appreciating life. But, isn’t that the way most of us go along, from one new Ca tomanother, one event to another. Who really looks at the Moon, unless they broadcast the event, on the News, beforehand. Then, we slow down and say, “Man, the Moon is really something.”. Myself, much like your downward spiral in drugs, pills, I spent about 20years, Good God, 20 years in My Self absorbed, Fantasy, that was, as I look back, ‘Hell On Wheels”. Using people, abusing people, emotionally, not physically. Finally I a moment of self realization, Isaid Hal, “look, look”. My step in my recovey, marrying a wonderful girl, having 2 great kids, stability, normalcy. Normalcy, maybe. Now, in my 3rd quarter of a century, Good Grief, I have Finally, realized what I can do, what I need to do, to getMy own appreciation of life, in total sync. Giving back, not financially. But, spiritually, so I will get on My Senior Care, soapbox, I now devout, at least 4 Days a week, visiting, interacting with MySeniors. Am not “tooting my own horn”, I do what I do. Especially, with My pre-Alzheimer’s Seniors. I interact, clasp their hands, look into their eyes, Sing a song I think they may, or may not recall. These Lovely people, inside they are confused, angry, frustrated. I Get A Smile. Praise God, they clasp my hands tighter, Wow. That is My Deal, My satisfaction. At times, short conversations. People may think,Hal you are trying to ”atone”. Yes, I am, I am Loving God, Loving My Seniors, Loving Myself. Finally, Renee, My Blog Angel, this is My vision of recovery, my ‘catching Fire”. I read your Blogs, and think, ah, I have a single thought. Nah, Renee as I have said, You really get my creative writing juices flowing. I can’t thank you enough. My Mom, Marion, is also thanking You, from her spot in Heaven. Yiu know my Musical jukebox is ‘always playing in my skull”.Couple of tunes, ‘You don’t know what you’ve got”(until You lose it), and “Wasted Days And Wasted Nights”. Thanks to My God, my own oath, is clearer. Thank you again, Renee, fir another “passionate, thought provoking Blog”, God Bless You and Monty.
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Thank you so very much, Hal, for sharing your story. It’s all about that moment of realization where you decide you want to live differently, isn’t it? You’re not “tooting your own horn” when you speak about your work with your seniors. I know the difference you make in their lives because of your patience and love for them. I love how you said that this is your vision of recovery. Everyone’s is different. Your testimony is such an example of finding the purpose that was meant for you and living fully to devote yourself to that purpose. I don’t think I know either of those songs, so I will check them out. Thank you for sharing your thoughts and once again contributing to my post. Blessings to you!