At first it was simply environmental shock: the contrast between the humid air and lush greenery of Connecticut and the arid, drought-stricken earth of Northern California. And then it was the harsh reality of my readjustment from the freedom and joy of our summer days and endless scoops of ice cream to a life of structure, schedules, calendars, carpools, activities, and homework that made my transition “back to school” so hard this September.

All summer long I exist in a state of minor panic. I want summer to never end, which only makes the days seem to pass even faster. Watching my children grow up feels the same. Recently I was hugging Charlie and realized he’s grown almost as big as me. How has this happened so quickly?

Lately I've been grappling with the concept of time. Not just the rate in which it passes but also how I choose to spend it. In the Power of Now, Eckhart Tolle posits that time is an artificial human construct. He believes there is no past, no future, only the now. Why then is it so hard to stay only there, in the present moment?

In response to an article about the trend of everyone being so “busy” I wrote to my friend Kate. “I struggle between trying to live everyday as fully as I can and this subtle but very real panic that it's all going much too fast and wanting to slow it down. How does living a full, adventurous, and inspiring life go together with a still, peaceful, and simple one?” She replied, “That is the balance we are all striving for, right? So hard to find but embracing every moment whether it's adventurous or quiet.” That’s exactly it. It’s not necessarily what we are doing but rather the mindfulness around it that will help us live in the now, which according to Tolle, is all we have anyhow.

In Judaism these ten days between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are called the Days of Awe. A period intended for introspection and reflection on the past year. This year the Days of Awe coincide with my 44th birthday, a natural time to reflect on my own life. So, today I intentionally sat down to write (after a long hiatus) and reflect on a few present moments and magically, I was awestruck:

A recent family reunion has piqued the kids’ interest about their relatives so I have been sharing stories. Yesterday I told Charlie about my great aunt and uncle who died very young in a plane crash many years before I was born. We talked about the tragedy of dying young and discussed mortality and the relatively short lives all of us have on earth. He looked at me and said, “Oh you mortals and your puny lives”. He was quoting from a book he’d recently read.

Then today, Teddy and Cate spent the better half of it conceptualizing and mapping out a dream house for our family. During their presentation (my birthday present) Teddy highlighted a feature that he said he’d made just for me: The Resurrection Room. “This is where you can bring back all the people in your life that have died, so you can have your mom and dad.” Then Cate showed me our dream backyard and in the middle of it was Mom’s Personal Mountain. She told me this is where I can run on trails, hike with Jackson, or feel peaceful.

A philosophical and somewhat literary conversation with Charlie, and my 9 year old twins know me well enough that they can create my dream house spot on. These are moments of awe, and in them time seems to stand still.