What do you call it when you bump into an epiphany you’ve forgotten? It’s akin to the sudden jolt of recognition when you happen upon a long-lost friend. Is there a word for this? 

We’d had Thanksmas Zoom with our kids the weekend prior. Holiday gatherings with friends and extended family just weren’t happening so Christmas Day had been ours to shape. In an attempt to avoid a pity party, I made special meals–just for BF and me–enjoyed chats and FaceTime with kids throughout the day, and watched my favorite movie, Love Actually. It was okay. On the good side of okay.

On Saturday morning, December 26th, I felt an unusual lightness surrounding Christmas being over. I was propped up in bed sipping my first cup of coffee and flipping through The Mindfulness Journal, a gift from the kids. I love everything about this magazine. The feel of its paper, the use of color and artwork, the photographs of women in oversized, comfy sweaters drinking from steaming mugs, and the yummy journal prompts. It satiates my healthy appetite for new beginnings, setting goals, and hippie stuff. With each new article, I was ascending the steps of my vibrational ladder.

And then I did it. Pattern interrupt. I stopped flipping and grabbed my phone. I was so excited about this magazine, I just had to share. Right then. Because to my own detriment, I’m a knee-jerk, impulsive sharer. I took a picture of the lovely cover and wrote a text to my daughter, two steps, and daughter-in-law: I set the scene for them, much as I did for you above, and waxed poetic about how much I loved this whole experience and offered to buy them a subscription. 

Somewhere between completing the carefully crafted text and then adding the photo, I lost the whole damned thing. I took a deep breath and started over, but this time I started the with the picture and added the lengthy paragraph. Something else popped up on my phone and I went to answer it, and you guessed it, lost the whole damned thing again. I threw my phone; expletive. My spell was broken. I’d fallen down the ladder.

Not to be deterred, I reached for my phone and tried again. This time, in the spirit of frustration and determination to not let the phone whip me, I forwarded the picture followed be a very short text that basically said, I love this magazine, anyone want a subscription? 

To me, excitement = sharing. Immediately. But what I’m hoping to remember is to allow myself to leisurely wallow in moments of high vibrations. Experience. Revel alone. Be. 

I’m already collecting my 2020 journals and I’ve purchased a new book for 2021 daily positive readings. I will sit, on New Year’s Day, as always, reflecting on the previous year and her goals while writing new ones. I’ll adopt a mantra or a word for 2021. I’ll get excited and hopeful and remember why this is my favorite day of the year. And eventually, I will share. But not immediately. Maybe not even for 24 whole hours.