The Best Moments of Life

Recently I have been undergoing some momentous ‘milestones’ as they call it. The Romans would mark a thousand paces (the original ‘mile’) with a great stone, hence the pervasive word.

Of course, the word is no longer used to denote physical distances, not even in dear old Roma, last time I checked.

No, it has instead become a word to describe a significant moment in life. Many folks I have had the pleasure of knowing also describe these moments, not only as pivotal, but also as the happiest and best moments of their lives.

Now I have been dwelling on this here and there, because I have found this not to be the case at all. Personally, these life ‘milestones’… although they are no doubt weighty and influential… are not even close to being what I would call the best moments of my life.

To be considered one of the best moments of my life, a moment needs to be one that I cherish deeply, from the bottom of my heart. It’s odd, but I don’t feel this way about any moment generally referred to as a milestone.

Milestone moments are about achievements, whether they be academic, occupational, social or romantic. Starting school, graduating with a diploma or degree, landing a prestiguous job… finding a romantic partner, getting married, having a child…

These are not moments I cherish the most at my core. These are not the moments I relive to get me through tough times. These are by no means the moments I want to be filling the great majority of my life.

I am grateful for what these moments have brought into my life, but not the moments themselves.

When I find myself suffering – in physical pain that won’t go away any time soon, or severely distressed or so angry I can hardly breathe, at events or people – I often seek relief in memories of a very different type of moment. They are small, peaceful moments. Remembering that those moments have been plentiful in my life fills me to the brim with gratefulness. I am also reminded that such moments will return in the future.

I can recall small details of so many leisurely walks on my own, or with my siblings. The wind hits our faces just so. The trees and flowers sway and dance back and forth in the soothing breeze. The sunlight warms us. My siblings, cousins or friends who I am with laugh and tease each other.

I can remember when I was a small child having just washed my hair. My mother would sit me down on the floor cross-legged, while she sat on the couch behind me and dried my hair with the towel. My grandfather would do the same thing – he was even better at it than my mom, and I was so happy in that moment. Looking back at the memory as an adult also fills me with joy as it is proof that a man can be just as motherly.

I remember my friends and I dancing and laughing away our stresses and worries, after long gruelling hours of studying.

Memories of my father and mother being goofy, acting as silly as toddlers. My grandmother giggling.

The memory of finishing a book or movie and being filled with totally new emotions or ideas, a sense of wonder, a feeling that you aren’t the same person that you were before this story entered your life. An immediate aching wish to go back in time having no memory of it so you could relive it from the start – not a happy feeling exactly, not fully sad either but an inexplicable combination.

Memories of beautiful gardens in the sun and rain, of playing with babies and children, cuddles from purring kitties, our favourite doggo being the most excited to see us, invented games, little unforgettable details of houses we lived in long ago…

These are the memories that make me feel that I am the luckiest person in the world, nay the universe.

Milestones may be inevitable, but the focus everyone seems to collectively put on them seems rather misguided to me.

They don’t matter much at all in the face of these little beautiful moments that are the best parts of being alive.