I found myself squarely in the middle of a significant moment one afternoon last week. It’s a rare feeling, that. Too often, we don’t realize we’re in a significant moment – capital S, capital M – until far too late, after the moment has passed and we’re looking back on it fondly, wondering why we didn’t realize in the moment that something magical was happening.
It’s one of those moments that stick with you forever – unremarkable in its own right, but surely signifying the start of something big. I was on the back of an impossibly tall bay gelding named Bo, riding round and round and round a dirt-packed ring in a frigid barn going no faster than a snail’s pace.
And despite the cold, despite the monotony of riding circles around the ring, despite our far-from-breakneck speeds, I was so fully in the moment that every detail crystallized, every sensation became substantial and meaningful and true.
The smell of wood burning in the old iron stove. The cold creeping up my toes. The soft cashmere of my scarf against my chin. The weight of my winter coat layered over my sweater layered over my t-shirt. The breath bursting out my nose in plumes. The sounds of chickens clucking and horses nickering and hooves plodding in the dirt. And – above all else – the blissful silence of a too-active mind.
But the moment passed, and unbidden, a thought came to me then:
This is my life now.
This is my life now, the kind of life I’ve always wanted. The details are different – no sane Albertan envisions herself riding a horse in -25 degree temperatures – but even so, it’s the kind of life I always pictured for myself.
A life where I can get so lost in the joy of doing something I love that time seems to stop and nothing exists but that single, perfect moment.