Yesterday was an important day for me. It marked exactly two months since I first woke up as a resident of New York City. Ironically enough, I woke up exactly as I had started this journey: sleeping on a couch, waiting for my next sublet to begin.

 

Yesterday also marked the final good-bye to my first job in the city, as I went out to dinner with the three ladies who had made working at a pop-up shop in SoHo such an incredible experience. Walking back to my subway station after dinner, I couldn't help but think on how wonderful those three women are, and the incredible impact they had on my life. During a month where I had plunged myself back into an old behavior pattern of overwork, failing to balance the energies I expended at my jobs with the rest of my life, these women helped guide me back to finding balance and reminded me that we live yoga through our daily thoughts and actions--not just on the mat.

 

As I walked down the street smiling at how fortunate I'd been, I realized I'd only known them a month! One month of glorious, inexplicable change and connection which intertwined our lives forever in some small way. But only a month! And I'd only been in the city for two months! It didn't even feel possible.

 

Looking at the lights on the trees around me, I realized that they, too, would probably be gone soon as the new year moves beyond the holiday season. The temporary nature of it all came into sharp focus. My time in the pop-up shop had been impactful, but--like any seasonal job--it was always fated to come to an end. My first sublet was over, as I'd known it would be--though my bonds with those roommates certainly won't end any time soon. Both felt so fleeting. Like the life of a snowflake: its beauty glimpsed for a moment before it melts or gets lost in the blanket of snow (or, here in NYC, turns into that sludge that makes the sidewalks a slip-and-slide--let's just say lesson learned!). My first two months in the city, my first job, my first sublet were all gone in a flash!

 

I began to realize the beauty in it. You recognize and remember the beauty of the snowflake because you know its time is precious. You know it's special because it's only around for an instant. We make a big deal of our holiday decorations because we know they won't be up long. We celebrate the new year because even its time is finite: 365 (sometimes 366) days.

 

As I kept walking, everything felt new and alive. Every breath of cold air, every wet mist of blown snow, every slip in the slush on the sidewalks was precious. The lights on the trees were spectacular. I marvelled at the reflection of one lit rooftop in the glass windows of the skyscraper next to it. The burst of noise from an opening bar door kindled my heart. I wandered longer and farther than was perhaps wise (given the weather--well below freezing--and my recovering cold that slowly turned into a hacking cough) but I revelled in each sight. Each sound. Each experience. I found new things in the city that I never would have glimpsed if I hadn't given in to the wonder of the moment.

 

I recognized each moment for what it was: temporary. It's what makes every instant special and perfectly unique. Each second slips from the present to the past. It's temporary, and generally we don't acknowledge it. Too often we're caught up in everything else going on in our lives to stop and wonder at how exquisite each moment is. We live in fear of the future or regret of the past. We wallow in problems that are themselves temporary situations. Even when things are going well, we'll worry about that future day when they'll come crashing down. We forget something important: Life's temporary. Each moment is a chance to enjoy it. To make it special.