flow

I think a lot about how far I’ve come and how I used to be.

I used to actively, obsessively watch old videos of my life. I had taken to blogging, vlogging, and recording my world in various ways. In college, I won the “Social Media Queen” award at the end of the year dance department party.

Life is beautiful. I especially felt like every moment of my life would last longer if I had a memory of it.

But sometimes when I took a picture I would think about how I would never look at it again. Never remember who I was with or what I was doing.

I would think I was just taking away from the moment itself by recording it.

Dance class used to just be taking a class. Training. Working really hard. Going into a room with like thirty other people and coming out an hour later with exponential growth. Now, cameras are everywhere. “Can you record me?” is a normal phrase now.

But what if we couldn’t?

What if we only had ourselves to remember? I view my artwork, my choreography, my music as memory keepers. I remember when I sat by a lake playing a song I never finished for a stranger about how beautiful the sunset was. I remember a dance performed about my miscarriage for a dance festival. I remember a street chalk art piece I painted with two of my friends: one who has now passed away.

I do also have pictures from those moments. They do help jog my memory of who was there, what happened, how it felt. But nothing could take away the feeling of the gravel against my finger as I tried to blend two colors. Nothing will override the woman who told me she had three miscarriages as I left the venue that night. I’ll never forget that conversation with that stranger who asked me what my definition of beauty was.

The photos and videos help. But they can also take away from our actual experiences if we’re not careful.

They can affect the flow of your life if you let them take over. We can’t let these digital products take over our actual life experience.

Every. Moment. Matters.

Everything can change in a second.

The more time we squander, the more life we miss.

So, how? How do we actually experience life?

There’s no real proven way to do that. But a lot of it lies in the ability to be aware, observant, grateful. The ability to open your eyes and keep them open.

I went on a run this morning for the first time in three weeks. Nearing the end, it felt brutal, I was losing steam. I ran over a bridge and was distracted by the stream. A woman running on the other side held out her hand for a high five and I missed it by milliseconds. I was like “Dang. I was so not tapped in”. Seconds later, I saw a woman struggling with her bike and the kids trailer attached to it. I ran to hold the bike up as she set up the kickstand.

“I hope you have the best day ever!” she yelled as I continued to run.

Good things happen everywhere. You just have to be looking.

On my way back she saw me and said “There’s my friend!”.

I smiled, waving.

If this world is a river, we are all drops of water.

The flow is so important to who we are as a civilization.

We are all connected.

We don’t want to dry up or be stagnant. We want to keep flowing; keep the water cycle steady.

Moments are built on connection. Even if we are alone, we are still connected to the world.

A leaf falling, the wind blowing, a spider in the corner of the room.

The more we notice, the more we experience. It’s okay to take pictures and videos but that can’t replace our actual ability to notice and connect. The art of noticing is not in what we are able to capture but instead in being aware of how something makes you feel. And then, perhaps, also capturing it.