Bottom of the Bottle

One of the worst feelings I can think of is the last sip of a good beer, a great pipe, or the last log on a bonfire. Whether it is with friends, or time I have with myself to reflect, I hate endings. I doubt I am alone, but after a nite of writing and reflecting, one of the thoughts that has been most pervasive is, that I rarely know how much I treasure a moment until I realized it has gone.

I constantly badger myself to know whether or not I should have done something different, something to extend the moment, expressed my love for the moment more… or should I have done exactly what I did? And let the moment wash over me, and let it point the future.

To paraphrase some C.S. Lewis and Confucius… I can either misguidedly reflect on the past — in the form of nostalgia, or I can realize the moment for what it was. It was a moment of beauty that points to the future — to greater moments. It is a moment that I can share with others, and that is the greatest gift of all, but I cannot fall into the trap of saving it for myself and forcing its replication.