What if you didn’t have another chance?
I admit it. Sometimes I don’t feel like being a better person. I yell at my kids, even though they are a foot taller than I am and obviously bored by what I say, even at high decibels. (The shoes at the front door, again? Do they breed overnight? I can’t even.) Or I go for the joke at someone’s expense or make a snide remark about someone’s politics. I am usually thinking, as I reach for the cheap dopamine hit, “I won’t be such a jerk tomorrow.”
If you’ve attended any kind of larger gathering or conference since the pandemic pinned us to our screens, you’ve probably experienced the Zoom breakout rooms, where a few of you engage in dialogue for two minutes before the Wizard of Zoom interrupts you from spilling your guts to the woman from Seattle with a cat in her window. It’s startling, that sudden break, mid-sentence, no opportunity to smooth things over, make sure everyone got their turn to talk. To add to the disconcert, you have no way of sending a friendly text to Cat Lady, because the chat function is controlled by the Wizard.
Today, I was the last person to share in my Zoom breakout triad, and I started with my annoyance at the technology. My plan was to immediately follow with something softer, make Cat Lady laugh, and all would be well. But the breakout ended abruptly, with only enough time for me to get through the bratty part. Wizard of Zoom doesn’t allow “do-overs.” It bothered me the rest of the day. I wrote a note in big black marker and stuck it to the middle of my screen, so I would have to work around it all day: only now.
Today I needed a loud reminder to lead with the compassionate stance, the resonant connection. “I’ll make it up to her tomorrow” or “I won’t be condescending to him after this” or “I’ll get to that next time” doesn’t work if you’ll never see Cat Lady again or -- let’s get real -- if there is no tomorrow. I am not really trying to be morbid here. One hundred percent of us know we will be dead at some point, but very few of us really live as if it actually will happen.
So just for today, I will pretend I’m seeing everyone for the last time ever. Instead of thinking “I won’t be such a brat next time,” I’ll try “only now.” Given the options of listening intently or rambling, keeping to myself or meeting the cashier’s gaze, walking the dog or driving to the post office, the “right” choice is easier if it’s the last time I’ll ever get to make that choice.
We are wishing you endless opportunities to lead with compassion and make your connections resonant. And we invite you to join us practicing the cliche of living like you have only now. (They’re cliches for a reason, people.)
With love,
Sara and the Becoming Jackson Whole team
This week’s 9-minute guided meditation: self-soothing
Sometimes the best tool for building awareness is a simple phrase, like “only now,” that gently reminds us to stay present. And sometimes we can look inward and find what we need in the moment. This Self-Soothing practice from Becoming Jackson Whole board member Amy Lane is an opportunity to find calm and connection within ourselves.