What's the point of life if you don't pause to taste it?
Revisiting My Guiding Word for the Year:
savor
Do you ever feel like your life is just rushing by and you’re barely noticing it, barely living in it, barely acknowledging it?
I do. I’m that person who is halfway through my meal before I taste it. And by the time I do stop and notice that, I feel the pang of having wasted half my meal. What was the point of it, beyond filling my belly, if not to be actually tasted?
How will I know how delicious it is if I'm not even pausing long enough to taste it?
Back in January, as I was gathering up my thoughts and reflections on the year gone by, and diving into the many creative practices and rituals I engage in every new year, I realized I had been rushing through life without tasting it more than ever. Having just come through one of the hardest chapters of my life (getting myself out of an emotionally abusive relationship), on the heels of three years of pandemic, on the heels of coming out of the closet at the ripe old age of 56, I was feeling fully the liberation of my being and my spirit. I wanted to experience life! I wanted love, passion, contentment, and fulfillment in all areas! And yet, I was rushing from one thing to the next.
My dance card was full, but was I even aware I was dancing?
I realized I did not want to get halfway through the next chapter only to realize I hadn’t even been relishing each day, each relationship, each new awareness.
It reminded me of how we try to experience wine at a wine tasting (caveat: I’m no wine expert)…we swirl it in the glass and notice the color…we stick our nose in and notice the perfume…we take a sip…we swirl it in our mouths slowly…we put our attention on that delicate liquid and our taste buds remind us of the hints of chocolate or berries or oak.
So, some of it is about slowing down.
And some of it is about noticing.
When I lead a guided meditation before my clients are about to dive into their art making, I invite them to put their attention on the air coming in their nostrils cool and leaving warm. Just that one act of narrowing our focus to the edge of our nostrils can change our whole experience, helping us to block out the chatter from the world in favor of paying attention to our breath as it comes in and out, softening our bodies, slowing down, quieting.
It’s very easy to miss it if we’re not paying attention to it.
Which brings me back to my new year’s creative practices, one of which is choosing an inspiration word for the year.
Every year for the past decade I've gone on a hunt for a word. The word is part reminder, part teacher, part lighthouse guiding me throughout the year to some concept, value or quality I want to bring more into my life. This exercise is always fruitful, for not only the finding of the word (or letting it find me) but the contemplation of it for 12 months. This is one of my favorite yearly rituals.
After choosing my word, I like to put it in front of me so that it will inspire me. I make a dreamboard (see below) about it and hang that on my studio wall. I take a photo of the dreamboard and upload it to my computer to use as my screen wallpaper. I make a piece of jewelry with the word etched into it. I art journal about it. (see above) I even talk about it with those who’ll listen! And I talk to myself about it as much as I can.
This year my word is "savor."
Finding a word of the year is a journey. Back in January, I didn’t immediately land on my word. As usual, my brainstorming page was covered with words in a rainbow of colors. Lists, word webs, doodles covered the page. Relish and taste and attend showed up first. Those breadcrumbs led me to find savor, and as soon as I found it, I felt it. This was The One! It held all that I was longing for: the experiencing of my life, fully engaged.
I could practically taste it in my soul.
The real truth of savor is in the pause. If I don’t pause during a meal or a conversation with my mom or a bike ride through a shady park on a hot day, I won’t be able to notice the edge of my experience…the flavors of the produce from the farmer’s market, my mom’s humor, the feel of the breeze on my bare arms.
It’s easy to get tangled up in the minutia. And the lack. And the anxiety. It’s easy (for me) to get lost in recapping the past and predicting the future of my life, rather than pausing long enough to savor the right now of it all.
I’ve talked before of being in the moment, and savoring is the epitome of that. Savoring is being in the moment and appreciating it for all its gifts and complexities and pain. Because all of it can be there in a moment.
And here’s something else I’ve learned in my Year of Savor: the more I savor, the more I notice the beauty rather than the ugly, the more I’m conscious of the blessings in my life rather than irritations.
The more I pause to savor my life, the more delicious my life becomes if only because I am truly tasting each mouthful.
The anxieties and uglies will always be there, jumping up and down and making a ruckus over on the sidelines of my life. The hard stuff will always grab my attention with ease. But what I want to pay attention to is the stuff that slides by without a fuss. If I don’t pause to savor those elements of my life, I will surely miss out.
