Today was a perfect day in Minnesota. 80 degrees.
Sam’s Club was deserted. The cashier said people had gone outside to play.
My exercise club was almost empty. People were enjoying the day.
This is Kairos Time (defined as) time that is rich, memorable, moments we want to hold onto.
You know … when you go in to check on your two year old and you see your child breathing softly, the corners of that little person’s mouth turning up, wondering what they’re dreaming about. And you catch yourself. You want to hold that moment forever.
The times when you think life can’t get much better than this. Time when you think if only time could stand still. Time when you think someday you will look back and wonder if you knew and fully appreciated this just might be as good as life gets.
Kairos time (in the Greek) if different than Chronos time. Chronos is clock time. You know, freeways, getting to work on time, scheduled meetings. It is time when we are responsible to be somewhere. It is when we feel a burden to be “there”.
But Kairos is different. It means “in the fullness of time”. Time when it all comes together. Time where we want to stretch it. Time when we take mental pictures to remember every glorious aspect of it.
Sitting on a rock on the 4th of July watching the last of the fireworks thinking this is the apex of summer and we better pay attention or it will be gone.
When we go to the farm for the last time to say good-bye and we hold onto the last conversation with our dad in his own home – and take long looks about us.
A fading sunset and the glory of the sky that paints itself just right and we wonder how anything could be so exquisitely beautiful.
Times when in the ordinary fabric of life we come across a box that holds a parent’s baseball glove and we stop to remember traces of childhood.
These are all Kairos moments of life.
We must remember them.
In today’s psychology a great deal of emphasis is put on mindfulness as if it is a new idea. But many of us have know this idea for a long time.
We are swept up in the stars on a dark summer night and we linger – outside – caught in the majesty of such great beauty. And we think – in this world of video – nothing could be so captivating and filled with mystery.
People who suffer from trauma and great anxiety have a difficult time remaining in such moments as these. Minds race ahead. Or we are fitfully distracted by the complexity of our own thinking. But occasionally we break through.
In Japanese psychology, David Reynolds talks about living the moment. There, he says, neurosis has a difficult time putting down it’s roots. We are aware. We stop in gratitude. We wait and look on things as if they are truly a miracle. A daughter returning home from far away can be glorious because we know her time with us is limited. The night of leaving when we know our enlistment will take us oceans away from those we love … we hold on tighter to those moments.
Einstein said for some people there are no miracles. No moments where we walk in the fullness of time. And for others, he says, everything can break into this quality.
I wish you a summer of these gracious moments. Moments we stop to appreciate the rare beauty of life. Times we want to extend and hold on to. Times when we think it can’t be much better than this.
I wish you times when you stop to notice and stay for a moment before rushing back into clock-time. Whether is in the pale light of morning – fishing with your son – or in the firelight of soft summer evenings holding your daughter or partner in your arms, may you stop to appreciate that this is the fullness of time – and this may be the moment when you look back and say this is as good as life gets.
The content above represents the views of this author. It is for information purposes only. If you are seeking help, consult with a professional who can tailor treatment to your specific need. Any resemblance to a specific person in my writing is purely coincidental. Thanks for reading. I welcome your thoughts and comments. For more information on my services go to http://www.jbragstad.com.