Mingling at a gathering of the vaccinated recently, I got into a conversation with a person of a certain age similar to mine about the art of living. It began with the talk of regional travel and places we’d each been in the northeast—a topic I can get behind—and eventually moved on to what you do when you’re in those random places. And I brought up the one line a day journal and my habit of searching for waterfalls and other such beautiful or historically relevant places nearby. The land whispers, if we only learn to listen. Life is richer when you become a good listener.
This act of writing one line per day has served me well, and I can stray towards evangelism on the topic when I’m not careful. Not everyone wants to be reminded to find something memorable in their daily lives. In those moments you can either revert back to being a good listener with a few neutral life questions and wait for the coffee to be served or find something interesting to mine from that conversation. Every soul has a story to tell should you listen for it.
Life is more interesting when you’re a collector of memorable moments. Finding something unique in every waking day is one way to saunter through life with the blinders off. What shall that one line be? Four meetings and chicken for dinner? Or changing into your boots and walking down a snowy gorge to find falling water using minutes brazenly stolen from the ordinary?
Everyone has their own idea of what makes a moment memorable. It’s our responsibility to ourselves to make something of our time. Why waste it doing the same thing we did yesterday? Make it stand out from the rest in some meaningful way. Small talk at a cocktail party offers its own opportunity to expand beyond the ordinary, if done well.
It’s entirely possible that I bored my audience to tears at that party. Then again, they might have been inspired to begin their own daily habit of writing down one memorable moment that very day… beginning with an entry about the odd character who inspired a small change before disappearing into the line for coffee, never to be seen again.