I like to observe people. To listen to what they say. To watch their moves. Sometimes it makes me judgmental, it’s true, but I am working on it.
One evening, at a table next to us, a 40 something lady was saying to a 60 something lady: “thank God the year of the snake is coming to an end. And next year is my year – the year of the horse.”
It was late December and at that point I realised that it was a year governed by the sign of the year I was born in. If one would follow the logic of that lady, waiting for your year would mean living only for six years in a 72 year life span. Such a waste, is it not? This conversation drew my attention because a 10 year old was with the two of them. Is this the lesson he will take with him, prejudicing his future perspective on life? “Be careful to what you say to your children, as it becomes their inner voice”.

I for one luckily got to know the value of time given to us on Earth. I’ve been on those ladies mental path until a critical moment during my labour when my kid’s heart bits accelerated to alarming levels. Those 10 seconds of antagonizing anguish marked a turning point. My brain reached a milestone of distinguishing the mundane from the important, the detail from big picture, the joys of life from petty struggles. I could not care less whose year or what month or day was it at that point. Anything ordinary might become extraordinary in the bit of a second.

From that moment on I know and constantly remind myself that every year is my year. Every day is my day. Every moment is my moment. Regardless of the sign a calendar marks it with.

“Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
― Omar Khayyám, رباعيات خيام