Updated: Dec 11, 2020
Receptivity | Organization | Sequencing | Efficiency
"Magic Moments are when you are in the moment, noticing something, and you take the time to recognize it for exactly what it is – the way all of your senses are experiencing it – the way all of YOU are experiencing it. You aren’t thinking about the past, you aren’t thinking about the future. You are appreciating it for what it is now and it will actually help you remember it better in the future. " - Mindee Mosher
Below are a year’s worth of examples of my Magic Moments.
We’re going to have a horse themed birthday party. It’s been decided. Miniature plastic horses will be painted aqua blue to match the bunting plates and other decor. As I stand in the backyard with the sun on my back, I position a cardboard box on the ground to lay out all 60 of the little horses. They feel textured and light weight in my hand. As I shake the can of aqua spray paint, I hear the balls rattle, getting looser and looser with each shake. I realize I got matte not gloss and wonder if it will make a difference. Gently spraying the horses back-and-forth, trying not to inhale much of the paint fumes, I am thankful for this stage of life where I can plan a fun themed birthday party with a grateful and enthusiastic eight-year-old.
In a wooden booth at a restaurant and feeling proud and sure and right. I got the job and the pay is better than expected! I can feel the hard wood through my jeans and my feet planted firmly on the floor. The ice water feels cold and smooth as I sip it and the smile on my face is starting to hurt my cheeks. The smell of meat and grease is wonderful and strong and I'm anticipating my meal. The bell, shaded chandelier above the table is making glowing spots on the tabletop and the lower wall. I know with all my being that financial comfort is around the corner.
A Blah Day
Bad mood. Restless. Laid in bed too long. Had some bad dreams. They were way too real and way too raw and that hasn’t happened for a long time. By noon I still couldn’t quite get rid of the blah feeling. Decided to go outside and sit in the shade for a few minutes. I began to realize all of the activity around me. The breeze blowing in the trees, the birds and insects staying busy all around me. It’s a beautiful day!
I close my eyes, feel my feet wiggle my toes, feel the pressure on my heels from the ground. I have my arms crossed across my belly and start to notice my belly moving up and down with my breath. I can shift gears now without much effort, just awareness. The warmth of the sun through my jeans on my legs, the texture of my shirt on my crossed arms, the light glinting on the shiny leaves of the Crepe Myrtle tree. I don’t smell much but the warmth in the air. I’m focusing on it a little bit more - actually I do smell some plant but I don’t know what it is. That’s OK. I realize I can hear so many insects buzzing in the trees and the bushes around me. There’s an occasional chirp from a bird and I can hear the air conditioner going. In the distance I hear a car or maybe that’s a truck. I don’t taste much either right now but in thinking about it I realize that my jaw is a little bit tense. I can relax that. I still have a slightly unsettled feeling in my chest, that’s OK too I can just be with it for a little while. I promised my daughter I would paint with her - will definitely do that. It is not a problem that I feel blah today. It’s giving me the opportunity to look a little bit more carefully at the amazing life around me and the amazing life within me.
The Corner of the Couch
I had a rare moment recently where I was sitting on my couch, the dogs were sleeping, the house was quiet and the sun was shining through the window. As I saw the leaves gently blowing in the breeze outside of my window, heard the clock that my grandfather gave me ticking across the room, smelled the freshly washed throw blanket on the couch next to me in the clean and tidy living room, I realized just how good I felt. Nothing hurt, my clothes and the temperature were perfectly comfortable. I had green tea next to me to sip and was full of energy and possibility for the day. This was a magic moment.
It’s so peaceful sitting on the bed this morning. I see the light filtering through the wicker shades and soft glow reflecting off the full- length mirror. I realize that settling down to meditate used to be much more difficult and now it’s a natural, enjoyable part of each day. My body no longer is restless. I can comfortably sit for the duration. I feel the fold of my legs and the straightness of my back. Comfortable. I can’t smell or taste anything but I hear a light ringing in my ears and the low rhythm of the air conditioner and ceiling fan. The pleasantness of this moment is notable and deep. As I scan my body and return to focusing on my breath, I’m thankful for the distraction of this magic moment during my meditation. Worth every second.
It’s Sunday afternoon and I’m sitting on a plastic chair next to a tent with string lights and tables with pizza, soda and cake on them in a kids’ rock climbing gym. There’s plenty of noise but it is echoing and gives the illusion of deep quiet. I’m so thankful for the opportunity to be here with my daughter at her friend’s birthday party. I can feel the tension in my biceps and forearms from just having climbed three walls in a row and can feel the tingling in my feet from the footholds. I’m watching Amber climb up the soccer wall and watching her hair swing back and forth as she reaches around the next handhold. It smells like rubber and pepperoni and I just might grab another slice of pizza while it’s still warm. What an opportunity to be here sharing this experience.
Family Reunion at the Beach
As the sun rises peach and orange on the horizon, over the ocean, I feel the grit of the sand as I open the beach chair hinges. The breeze is interspersed with small gusts whirl my hair and tickle my shoulders.
The seagulls and all-terrain golf carts are ever present as the morning crew makes its way down the beach, cleaning up trash for the day ahead. The seagulls help. Since I’ve been here a few days I can barely smell the salty air anymore. It seems normal but I know it’s there. I can still taste it. Feeling extremely grateful for this brief time of peace before a fun filled day of visiting and activity with extended family.
It’s overcast with a light breeze, no chance of rain. I can feel the dust and hay on my toes can’t decide whether to keep my sunglasses on or put them on top of my head. The grains of animal feed Amber has that we bought for $1 fall on the fluffy chocolate brown fur of a small alpaca and his crooked teeth and soft lips nibble up as much as I can hold in my cupped hand.
As we meander through the corn maze looking for the numbered story signs of Spookly the Square Pumpkin, I notice the smile on Amber’s face and hear a toddler laughing over by the goats. I can still taste the cheese sauce from the snack bar pretzel as a pumpkin rolls down the hill of the pumpkin patch as we carefully choose which ones to bring home.
I remember when I was a child laying on my stomach on the carpet at my grandparent’s house, I was completely and comfortably me. I had no thoughts of the past or future, no expectations that things could or should be different than they were in that moment.
It was a weekday afternoon in the summertime and as my grandmother quietly began dinner preparations in the kitchen, I lay on the living room rug with a word search and crossword puzzle book in front of me. I could see the afternoon light filtering through the window sheers and hear the clock hypnotically ticking on the wall. Distantly, I could hear the clicking sound of something going round and round in the dryer. There was a slight expectation of Paw Paw coming home from work soon. The feel on the rug under my legs was soft and textured as I was wearing shorts. I could feel my hair fall over my shoulders and dangle toward the book. The smell of the furniture polish and steamy, boiling water from the kitchen was light but noticeable. As I chewed on the rubbery pencil eraser tip, everything was exactly as it should be.
Sheep and Wool Festival
Not long ago, I went with my daughters to the local Sheep and Wool Festival. We tried lanolin hand cream, made wool yarn god’s eyes at a workshop and took dirty wool samples from the ground beneath an earthy shearer and a bleating sheep. At the sheepdog herding demonstration, as the announcer tested the mic and Kip, the purebred Australian Shepherd laid patiently in the dirt waiting for the sheep to be released from the pen, I was briefly overcome with intense joy and gratitude for the awesome day. That was my tip off! At that moment, I more deeply took in the scene. I saw the white wooden gate props in the arena, the craggy tree near the parked horse trailer to my right. I heard the announcer and the annoying lady to my left, who said ‘like’ in every sentence. I smelled the dirt, humidity and sheep. I tasted the nothing and dust in my mouth as I felt the cool, rough cross bars of the fence I was leaning on and the weeds tickling my ankles. All this while feeling gratitude, love and anticipation for the figure eight that Kip and the sheep were about to entertain me with.
As I turn onto the street from the garage at work, I notice what a beautiful day it is. The sun is shining and it’s the time of year when the entire ride home will be in daylight. The sky is blue, the clouds are bright and billowy. I made it through all of the green lights on my way out of the city. It’s good to be by myself in the car. No music or audiobook at the moment. I’m just in my own little bubble. I feel relaxed. The feeling of my insulated steel bottle is cool and smooth in my hand. It’s heavy and still filled with green tea. It smells a little bit like a vegetable tray and tastes slightly nutty. I notice the comfort of my soft seat back and the firm, warm sensation of the steering wheel in my hands. It’s going to be a good drive home.
I can remember the shiny, polished wooden back of the pew in front of me and the bright sunlight through the tall, side windows of the sanctuary. I can see the steps up to the podium through the grown-ups. I was a young girl, shorter than most everyone else. The sound of the piano and organ reverberated around me and my chest, ears and throat vibrated as I sang the hymn "How Great Thou Art" with the congregation. There wasn't much of a smell or taste but the edge of the padded pew on the back of my legs and the textured cover of the large, heavy, dark green hymnal balancing on the pew back in front of me is vivid, maybe a little musty but not much. I felt at one with God and those around me.
How to Capture Your Magic Moment
If you want to sear a memory into your brain, here’s how. Identify what exactly you want to remember and, if possible, why. Note what specifically is happening with all your senses.
Can you remember a time recently when everything felt just right? All was well with you and the world? Let’s capture it.
Where were you?
What were you doing?
Who was there?
When did this occur?
How were you feeling? What emotions did you experience?
What did you see?
What did you hear?
What did you smell?
What did you touch?
What did you taste?
Now put it all together into a few sentences. You don’t have to be a writer. Just cobble it together as you see fit. Send it to me at firstname.lastname@example.org and read it back to yourself a few times this month.