Happy Now Years… The History of Now.

O’, such romance, this fickle affair with time.

But imagine if every day were New Years Eve; were we to dutifully absorb a moment of wistful reflection at morning awoken or before closing our eyes at night. Think about it. If we thought back over the past 24 hours and counted the memories of special importance, reconciled bitter regrets, and then toasted cheerfully to the next 24 hours.

Or to recount that kiss at the door; and that delicious free cup of coffee the barista gave you, and when that man opened a door for you this afternoon because your arms were full of groceries. Remember that argument you had with your son as he left for school or the unexpected bill you received in the mail. Or the intersection this morning when that guy with the “homeless, cold, and hungry” sign sadly looked away — while you locked your car doors as he walked by.

Reflect and hope to never forget or take for granted these snippets of the recollected day. Apportion the relevance of your losses and squander not the gains. It was a day to look fondly upon new friends that came and went in the instant of a smile and to wish well of passerby’s with remembered frowns but forgotten faces.

Remember the closing of this past day is not to honor the loss of celebrities or shake a white-knuckled fist at the notoriety of national politicians, or fear river floods and forest fires, and writhe in humanity’s ignorance of shelled villages and refugees and Nobel prizes and downed jetliners. The world of the hour has not happened to you, rather you happened to it. Send the day off with a gift of your own – never see it off empty handed, while yours are full.

Why do we recall, love and loathe so distantly? Consider the nearby little feats and failures in the life of the spectator that become prey to the grand affairs of the illusion of measured time. We quickly turn past pages of truth to fancy ourselves in the foreground of this artificial accounting of merely tabloid worthy and otherwise untenable acts and scenes in someone else’s play.

Honor the nourishment of the long year in sipped spoonful’s of precious seconds. Make note of what is within the reach of your hands and lips. Turn your eyes to whomever nearby can hear your sighs. Tune your senses to the utterances of close company that caresses your ears.

The brilliance of the sun and its blushing moon do not know time. Let them be timelessly beautiful. Why amass the individuality of four seasons into one? Why blend the distinction of morning and night? Let each hour’s basket of immeasurable moments be your one celestial sized revolution. Be the historian of NOW.

Each slice of movement no matter how still is worthy of celebration. Happy “chronoversary.” Happy Timelessness.