Live in the Moment--It's What You've Got

Originally published September 13, 2009.

Sophia takes her mother's lipstick and is poised to paint herself like the Joker.

When ask my 3-year-old for her mother's makeup back in my calm, let-her-feel-like-she-has-control approach, Sophia shakes her head and says, "It's mine because I got it." I wait patiently because there's only so much screaming a guy can handle.

I envy Sophia's sense of impunity. It's unimportant whether she even needs what she has taken. She is focused on the event, the glory of choosing an activity without condition and not the object itself.

I think about all the decisions I will have to make in the near future--when to balance the checkbook, what to make for dinner, how to occupy the kids on the next rainy day--and I realize that if I thought less and acted more, my life would be simpler.

After watching my kids interact blithely in a world that favors caution over cheerfulness and labor over leisure, I recall the happiness that once came with ignorance. Sometimes, I long for the days of fewer responsibilities and more freedom. There was a time when we all were engaged in the moment and not worried about what could go wrong. That time always lies in front of us, if we choose to look for it.

When my kids say, "I want to go swimming," they mean now, not after the laundry is folded. When I say, "We should take the kids on a hike," I mean next week or let's check the calendar. There's always something more important to do. My children remind me daily that they don't care.

To paraphrase Buddha: The secret of health is not to mourn for the past or worry about the future but to live earnestly in the present moment.

Buddha must have been a preschooler.

Sophia grins at the tube in her grasp--it is hers now--and I concede to the de facto queen of our house. She will do anything in her power to keep the illicit lipstick safely in her stubby little sausages. Tanya suggests that we would be wise to pick our battles and let her explore safely. Getting the lipstick back is not a life-and-death situation.

Sophia has achieved her goal and is invested in keeping the lipstick equally for herself and away from everyone else. By watching her steely eyes and unwavering resolve, I learn that if we desire something, we need to take it. Once we have made the effort and collected what we know we deserve, we must own it and savor it.

While I don't condone theft or any other form of lawlessness, there is a point at which we must feel comfortable chasing our dreams without fear of failure or the judgments of outsiders.

Sure enough, within five minutes, graffiti-faced Sophia leaves our room, giggling with her sister, and the lipstick rolls to a stop under our bed. I look at Tanya and we share a laugh. This moment is ours because we got it.