Some things are meant to exist in a single moment, then never again. It's easy to forget that in the world of instant gratification, social oversharing and permanent documentation we live in. I'm grateful for the ability to capture memories and chronicle the stories of our lives, and I use it to my advantage daily. But that makes us readily able to forget what doesn't need to be broadcast to a bevy of followers and what should be actually, genuinely over when it's done.
When we recognize those moments, they tend to cause us to pause and soak it all in. That makes us more present and appreciative. They're the moments that make us feel more alive, knowing that we're really, truly experiencing them, often with other people who are—gasp—in the same room as us. I often have to fight off my own urges in order to experience these moments; I've been jamming with other musicians only to fall into a killer groove, creating a spontaneous burst of euphoria that my less-enlightened instincts want to record and have forever. But reaching for a recording device takes me out of the moment, and once I decided these moments are supposed to exist then and there and should dissolve into the ether after they've passed, they became more meaningful to me. They became a brief high that served as a nice reminder of the impermanence of everything.Read More