Yesterday evening I caught myself doing something totally normal… And realised it was actually profoundly strange.
I dictated a voice message into my phone and moved on to the next task. When it suddenly struck me that I hadn’t even bothering to check that it had transcribed the words correctly.
I regularly speak rather than type these days. But only a couple of months ago it would make all sorts of mistakes in the transcription. So, after editing the result, it took almost as long as if I’d typed it in the first place.
And a year or two before that it never even occurred to me to try dictating. I couldn’t conceive that it was an available option — let alone a good one.
Now it’s almost word perfect every time.
When I stop to recognise this, it surprises and delights me that this is possible. That I get to ‘create’ this magic simply by speaking. I’m displaying a kid’s sense of wonder again.
But even now I mostly dictate messages without appreciating this. And how different will things be in just a few short years or even months?
How long will it be before I never even consider writing a note rather than speaking it?
In a couple of years from now I won’t even recall that dictating thoughts used to be impossible.
So this is a strange and unique moment in time.
But what strikes me most is how I almost didn’t notice it at all. How it would have been so easy to sleepwalk through it completely unaware.
And that makes me think about the impermanence of moments generally. Since EVERY moment is unique and changing and never to be repeated.
This example is a reminder to me to grasp that and appreciate that in EVERY moment. But it’s also surely a warning.
If new, magical technology fundamentally changes the way we behave right under out noses… and we don’t even recognise it. What hope then for all the mundane passing moments as they continually come into being and pop out of existence?
Contrast this with the recent coming of spring. I appreciated the fresh green leaves, blossom, and new flowers with a visceral delight each day when I stepped out of the house.
If we were locked in an eternal spring then my appreciation would have faded. Instead, the turning seasons refresh it for me.
So two examples — voice transcription and spring. In one I’ve been sleepwalking through the changing moments; in the other I’m wide awake and filled with joy as a result.
Both options are possible. It purely comes down to your choice of whether to pay attention.
Life is made up of tiny moments. Nothing more.
Each one here for a fleeting second… Then it’s gone.
They form a rushing river of possibility that’s constantly flowing right alongside you. You only need to make the effort to reach out and drink from the stream.
Grasp as many moments as you can.