The Most Fabulous Moment

Sitting on metal chairs in the church basement a man reported, "A friend of mine encouraged me to say, 'This moment is the most fabulous of my life.' So I did and things, somehow, changed." This caught my attention. It was intriguing. Maybe I could try it. "This moment is the most fabulous of my life," I thought.

Suddenly the spaces between the objects in the room, the places I've been feeling that Spirit hides - or exists - in, were alive. The emptiness pulsed. No longer a dismal, forgotten linoleumed wasteland peopled with souls looking for salvation or redemption or hope or whatever we are looking for; it was now a jumping off point for possibility.

This might be an antidote to the drudgery, angst and fear that my negative thoughts produce. "This moment is the most fabulous of my life."

So I try it. Walking down the street to an appointment, nervous about meeting people I didn't know, about the time, about my bank account, about ... whatever. Discontent personified. Ah, the sentence. Maybe it will work. "This moment is the most fabulous of my life."

But I say it wrong. "This is the most fabulous day of my life," I say. Yuck. That is scary. I don't want the rest of my life to be walking down the too cold street carrying an overstuffed bag that is way too heavy. Wait a minute. That's not it. This is not the most fabulous day of my life. It's only this moment I need to worry about, not this day.

"This moment is the most fabulous of my life." Yes! There it is, Spirit again filling the spaces between the buildings and the cars and the traffic lights and the people. And I'm vibrant joy - which is, really, who I am in the world, though I desert it sometimes.

I try it again. I'm washing dishes, scouring pans, wiping the drainboard, emptying the drain catch, worrying that there are not enough hours in the day, that I should be writing or walking or meditating or making sales calls, filled with self-loathing. Ah, this might be another moment. "This moment is the most fabulous of my life." Suddenly the backyard appears through the kitchen window. It had been there all along, of course, but, hyper-focused on the undone tasks, I didn't see it. Now there it is, and there is Spirit, hovering over the yard, between the trees, between the lilies and weeds!

So I start sharing this with friends. And I'm not happy with their response. They say, "Of course. This moment is the most fabulous because it is the only moment we have." Well, yes. But that thought doesn't fill me with joy. It feels like lack, doesn't honor what went before and what will come after. It feels like deprivation. And it trivializes a rich experience. It destroys the possibility and, well, the fabulousness!

So I'm going to do it, say it, feel it my way. This moment is the most fabulous of my life not because it is the only moment I have. It is the most fabulous just because it's fabulous. And it is fabulous. I don't want to be conscious now that it is all I have, though that thought sometimes gives me comfort and joy. Right now I want to be conscious that this ... moment ... is ... fabulous.

So they can do it their way. And I have no idea what the man who said it first meant, or the man who repeated it. But I know what makes me joyous. For today. It makes me vibrantly happy to think that this moment is the most fabulous of my life because it ... is ... fabulous!