On any given day, I wonder… I just wonder… how many things we see?
There is that saying that WE are spiritual beings, inhabiting a human body. This is our “vessel” for travel… our spirits…. through this time. As such, supoosedly we are “limited” by our human form.
Yet. We have some pretty amazing capabilities. Sight. Sound. Touch. Taste. Smell. Holy smokes. Those are some incredible functions. Miraculous, really.
Which brings me to the first question. I wonder how many things we see in a day? How many smells, and sounds do we encounter? Tastes? Tactile experiences? Thousands upon thousands upon thousands I imagine.
It is speculated that humans have between 50,000 and 70,000 thoughts per day. That’s a lot. Different studies show around 30,000. Hey. That’s a lot too. A lot of fast, nondescript thinking. We are all over the place in our minds.
My point is, we have this second. Right here. This little minute. Do we really need to be anywhere else?
Do we really see what is in front of us, and appreciate whatever it is? Whether it is the Grand Canyon, or a peanut butter sandwich? Do we hear the sounds? Do we listen… truly listen… when someone speaks? Or are we just getting ready in our little heads to answer back?
I think some people are really good at this. At actually living.. and being. And others just flop around through the day… with little attention to this OR that.
I also think life is a gift. Our humanness, in all it’s limitations, is an immeasurable gift. Tremendous. For this minute in front of me, I will notice this gift and be thankful.
I had Sushi for dinner, and it was completely great. The food, and the people I was sharing it with. In that minute, I loved it. And. Right now, I am thinking about all the people I know who might read this. I love them all. Gifts.
It is through gratitude for the present moment that the spiritual dimension of life opens up.
Eckhart Tolle
Between stimulus and response there is a space. In that space is our power to choose our response. In our response lies our growth and our freedom.
Viktor E. Frankl






















