Cherish What Matters
Life can change in an instant. So make time for what matters. Today.
Once in a while, an event reminds us of the fragility of life. I wanted to share such a moment with you.
It was one of those early spring London days that tease with flashes of brightness. I was feeling optimistic. I put on a summer dress with a sweater and boots, covering the bases.
I did not check the forecast.
The rains came as I crossed Westminster bridge. A sudden, sharp deluge chasing away the sun and my good mood. My hair leaped to the heavens with customary chaotic frizziness.
But the heavens took pity and delivered a good Samaritan. A sensible Samaritan with a very large umbrella.
We huddled together, Samaritan and I, shoulder-to-shoulder like old friends. Sharing snippets of ourselves as we walked to Black Rod Gate.
And now we wait
A few hours later, meeting complete, I started home.
‘Sorry, you need to wait.’
Time for another coffee we thought, whilst they dealt with the false alarm. We were not worried. Senses, dulled by repetition, cannot stay on high alert. So we chatted, but as Time circled and slunk through us our words shrunk to silence.
We waited.
With fresh tea in stiff-upper-lip bone china and jolly you’ll-never-best-us biscuits. We found a TV and saw it was real. Not for us of course. For us it was hyper-unreal, idling in the House of Lords, drinking tea.
But moments away lives were hyper-real, messy with fear and confusion.
They teach us Time is immutable. One minute is always 60 seconds. One day is always 24 hours. But that is not how it is.
Time is a deranged shape-shifter, toying with us. Our babies grow-up in an instant. The life-and-death news takes an eternity. Our perfect selves taunt us from tomorrow.
We waited.
Time is a deranged shape-shifter, toying with us. Our babies grow-up in an instant. The life-and-death news takes an eternity.
Split-seconds change everything
At 14.40 on March 22nd, 2017, a grey Hyundai Tuscon mounted the curb on the south side of Westminster Bridge.
I could have been there, would have been there, if I hadn’t lingered to chat or if there was no queue in the bathroom.
Andreea Crista would not have been there, would not have smashed to her death, if she had taken a trip to Paris or Rome.
If they were a little faster, a little slower, 49 people would not have been injured that morning.
The fabric of hundreds of lives would not have been ripped if a few pivotal moments in Khalid Masood’s life had been different. Maybe.
Split second choices rippling into millions of what-might-have-been. Millions of alternate lives never lived.
After many, many hours we were allowed home. A few days later, I picked up my guitar and sung these words (click the link below to hear the song):`
I felt the sound
I saw the world turn to dust
Fell to the ground
Scrambling for something to trust
Every moment is a risk
Every moment is a million to one
Every second is a sign
Every second is the start of a new day breathing
Split second sooner everything’s lost
Split second later destiny’s crossed
Are we in control of anything?
We all play bit-parts in dramas we stumble in and out of. How does this define us? And what about the roles we miss, by accident or design. How do their shadows describe us?
I saw your smile
Calling to me through the crowd
You caught my eye
Wondered, then turned around
Every moment is a chance
Every moment is a million to one
Every second is a sign
Every second is the start of a new dawn gleaming
Split second sooner you might be mine
Split second later love’s out of time
Every moment is a choice
Every moment is a million to one
Every second is a change
Every second is the start of a new world turning
How can we cope with the gravitas of these ceaseless choices and non-choices? How do we stop seeking refuge in decision-paralysis?
I take my time
Can’t sell my attention too cheap
Waiting in line
Can’t find the conviction to leap
Every moment is a start
Every moment is a million to one
Every second leaves a mark
Every second is the gasp of a flipside fading
When I was young, Time was the panacea. I had my whole life to sort out the missteps I created or suffered. A lifetime to choose and to change.
I was reckless. Then I wasn’t. I started hedging my bets, playing both sides. I thought I was keeping my options open, but I was fleeing the finality of every option.
When I was young, Time was the panacea. I had my whole life to sort out the missteps I created or suffered.
Would it help to see how the parallel lives played out? Are we disciplined enough, self-aware enough to use that data well?
Or should we surrender to the unpredictability and trust our instincts more? Our subconscious, sophisticated, iteratively honed responses.
Maybe we should worry less about what-might-have-been and what-might-be, refocus on today. Make the best of who we are, what the world has thrown us. Today.
Split second sooner everything’s won
Split second later everything’s done
Split second bright
Split second black
Split second over
No turning back
The gift of meetings with our mortality
The gift of unexpected meetings with our mortality is to remind us of all we have. All that brings us meaning and joy, that makes us feel lucky to be alive.
It is a priceless gift. But we throw it away like a Christmas cracker toy on Boxing Day.
Why do we find it so hard to see what matters to us? The things flashing in neon on massive billboards all around us, in moments of fear.
Stop. Take a moment. A Split Second. To cherish today.
Split Second is from my third album ‘I’m Too Old To Die Young’. Which is available now.
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