GATHER YE MOMENTS WHILE YE MAY

"Seize the day" (carpa diem) is an admonition expressed in many pieces of literature as well as countless times by speakers. Maybe not in the exact words, but with the same meaning such as poet Robert Herrick's lines, "Gather ye rosebuds while ye may. Old Time is still a-flying; and the same flowers that smiles today, tomorrow will be dying."

I would break the admonition down to "Seize the moment," especially the common moment. Some might call it the expendable moment, the throw-away moment, like that spent taking out the trash or going to the mail box.

I thought of such seizing again yesterday as, early, I was taking a letter to the mailbox, something I do nearly every day at no memorable moment or exact time. Passing underneath the pin oak, a gleam caught my eye, as if a star had fallen and tangled in the still-clinging leaves. The gleam disappeared quickly as I moved forward. I backed up a few steps and saw it again. It was the early morning sun striking one bronzed leaf at just the right angle for me to see it. It didn't just make the leaf more shiny, it was a miniature reflection of the whole sun itself, as if a mirror had been placed in the tree for that purpose.

I stood there looking at it, almost transfixed. I don't ever remember seeing such a reflection. Maybe a shiny leaf, but a miniature picture of the sun! I was conscious of several cars passing by. Some slowed to an almost stop. I'm sure the occupants were trying to see what I saw, thinking maybe a rare bird or a treed animal. I did not even look in their direction. Had I motioned them to stop, come back and look, they would have been too slow, too tall, too short, disappointed that I had not hypnotized a spotted owl or eye-pinned a tree frog. I was seizing the moment. And it lasted only a moment as the world continued to turn eastward, rubbing out the reflection.

On another day I was hurriedly filling the bird feeders, it being a bit chilly. I glanced at the garden seat and saw a gray cat arise from his curled-up position beside the plastic rabbit. He humped his back prodigiously and yawned so profoundly that his tail trembled. The relaxation of the cat after its yawning stretch was somehow transferred to me and I felt it for a long time afterwards, even smiled about if for several days. Why should such a simple thing give me so much pleasure? It was so right, so natural. Just a common moment while doing an everyday routine.

Again, I was reading the morning paper, noting a scrap of something on my newly swept carpet at the far end of the room. I made a mental note to pick it up after I'd read all about the distant happenings in the world, the local events and decision, the Family Circus and Ziggy -- all consuming everyday common but pleasurable moments because this was the societal setting in which I am planted at this particular time in the great time continuum, and I want to feel a part of it, even if only vicariously. When I felt I had a good grasp on the situation, I folded the paper and went to pick up the scrap that had somehow eluded the sweeper. I stooped down, spread out my fingers to grasp it and came up with nothing. It was a little isolated patch of sunshine that had come through some odd space in the blinds and curtains. I had to sit down and laugh. It was one of those throw-away moments one spends trying to keep the house tidy, but the idea of trying to pick up sunshine struck me as something one ought to think about, if only poetically such as, "Gather the sunshine where you may, tomorrow may be cold, dreary and gray."

REJOICE!