As holidays approach and are accompanied by the pressure to make everything magical, I feel melancholy at the moments that are escaping notice in the interim as we all rush to the “next memorable experience”. Couple that with the disappointment of seizures invading after a promising start on a new medication and I find myself needing a reminder to stop, breathe and appreciate.

It is ordinary moments, of wonder and innocent delight, that remind me of how extraordinary it is to appreciate the ordinary of this world.

Can words actually share that visceral feeling or impart the importance of finding magical moments in every day experiences?

Can words capture the majesty of standing beneath a wide open sky, arms spread, heart open to the world, spinning slowly while snowflakes descend gently? I feel their cold touch on my face, and the moist trail they leave as the heat of my skin melts them until I can’t tell what is snowflake trails and which are tears.

Can words relay the feeling of vastness of standing on the peak of a mountain; the world spread below you like you have made it, you have conquered all of the lessons to be learned in this earth? But what goes up must come down and your descent will return you to your starting point. And a reminder that life repeats the same cycles unless you change your starting and/or end point and path along the way.

Can words convey the feeling in my chest when I walk into my sleeping child’s room? The innocent face in a peaceful sleep. I feel my heart expand with love so infinite it feels unable to be contained by my body. I need a bigger vessel. Sometimes I feel my heart expand so much I can’t help but think “we’re going to need a bigger boat”.

Can words be connection if I tell you about standing in front of a waterfall? Watching the water rush over the precipice and down, and then meandering through the rocky terrain once it hits the base. Can I convey how that makes me reflect on life and I feel like I was rushing through for so long? Until I finally took the plunge. And the base isn’t rock bottom but where I was meant to land and learn to slow down.

Can words share the feeling of being infinitely powerful and powerless simultaneously? Strolling the shore, ocean waves lapping at my ankles. Water meeting sky for as far as my eyes can see. A reminder of the power contained there. Moments of abandon when I dive under waves in the frigid water, keeping my eyes closed against the sand and life and surrendering. Because some things must be seen with the heart.

The small moments that are not small at all are the ones we will live most of our lives in. Make THOSE ones count.