chasing sunsets

Happy monday, friends!

I feel I should say that to you, because Monday is such a bugbear isn't it?

Of all of the 7 days in our week Monday is the bête noire, the nuisance, the one to just get out of the way.

As I sat in my empty classroom at 9am this morning eating my porridge from a Sesame Street bowl I was already dreaming of 6 o'clock when I could put my coat back on and go home.

Wishing my life away, in effect.

When that golden hour arrived and I rushed out of the school and onto the subway with my mind set on getting home and putting my yoga pants and the kettle on I didn't stop to people watch, to reflect on my day, to be present. 

It was only when I exited the subway and was stricken by this beautiful, whipped pastel dream of a sunset that I stopped, stood, appreciated and contemplated.

One moment, in my entire day, that I did that.

And that, friends, wrapped a great blanket of melancholy around me.

Because I realized in that one solitary moment that I have been failing miserably in two of my aspirations for this year; learn to be more present and in the moment and practice mindfulness.

I shouldn't chase the sunset.

I should be present for all of the moments in between me getting out of bed in the morning up until I see that sunset.

I shouldn't count the minutes but be an active observer of them: paying attention to every emotion, every sight, sound and smell. Every child's smile or teacher's words, every 5 year old's hug or the way the light reflection changes through the window with the passing hours.

What a sad thing to let these moments pass by unnoticed, to let them fade un-acknowledged and unappreciated into another Monday 'done and dusted'.

Presence.

It sounds so easy.

Tomorrow I will try harder.