My favorite time of the day happens right around 6:15am. The alarm goes off, warning me that the day will begin. To my left, I feel my wife shift from sleeping to awake. I turn to her, draw close, still myself, and begin to hear the beating of her heart. It’s strong and consistent and wonderful. I lay there, whisper, “I love you” and feel time pause at every beat.

The next five minutes are too short, and my own heart longs for more time.

Life is too fast and too short. This undercurrent that rushes, cascades towards the future carries the detritus of dreams, hopes, pains, joys, moments so that the things of permanence become uprooted and washed away. And we let go and give in. We willingly float along and allow the sweeping waves of “What’s next”, “What does our schedules say”, and “Where are we trying to go” carry us away from what is here and now.

We supplant our tiredness and ennui with caffeine, micro-naps, distractions, and vacations in which we need further vacations to recover from our experiences. We measure our standing in this world through our ability to swim fast, far, and strong and carry all the accomplishments we’ve collected along the way. It’s a raft of our own creation that feels like solid ground, but the truth is that they are being washed away by time as well.

The call to be rooted, present, presenting all of yourself for a brief eternity has been drowned out by the crashing waves of next. next. next.

But… once in a while… we become snagged. We find ourselves caught and yanked out of the rush. We find that one moment at 6:15am with no agendas… no need to do anything, nothing pressing to say except the verbal affirmation of the physical expression of the deep soul cry of “I love you”… and it feels like forever.

In that moment, worlds form. Hues and shapes, stories and testimonies of emotions and thoughts and yearnings shift and tempt us to extend ourselves and touch. When we do, we will find that the fragility of those moments are a ruse and that there is more permanence than we could ever have hoped for.

For you see, eternity isn’t formed through the progression of time, but within the progression of time and through the moments that last forever.

My 6:15ams are at once fleeting and stands outside of time. I can draw myself into that place, that connection, to be present even when I am physically alone. I can stand tranquil like a stone, like a mountain, as the waters pass me by… and I will miss nothing.

Published by Young Song