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Eight Minutes

Eight minutes. That’s how long it will take before we discover the sun has died.

Eight minutes.

The explosion, or implosion, of the sun will definitively remove its light. And that absence of light will reach us eight minutes after the event. After death.

So, for eight minutes, we’ll be oblivious to our own fate. For eight minutes, we’ll continue going about our daily routine, griping about our woes — real or imagined — and rejoicing in our achievements — mini or major.

And, frankly, most of us won’t be doing anything particularly exceptional during those eight minutes.

After all, much of life is maintenance mode.

Eating. Cleaning. Sleeping.

Staring at Facebook. Or a car’s brake lights. Or spam — digital or emotional.

That awareness is sobering, isn’t it?

One day contains 1440 minutes — 180 eight-minute portions. One hundred eighty opportunities (or, technically, 1440 if you consider starting your eight minutes during any single minute…or 86,400 if you want to start your eight minutes on a particular second…and down the rabbit hole you can go…so, back to my point)…

What if you have one hundred eighty opportunities, today, to consider the next eight minutes as the most important, and final, of your life?

Eight minutes to live.

How will that change your day?

How will that change THIS MOMENT?

We hear so much about “being in the moment” that it’s become an advertising slogan in the background noise of our lives. We nod at its wisdom, as we glance at the alternative magazine headline boldly pronouncing it in sans serif, while shooting a text to a friend, scanning our groceries at the DIY station and absent-mindedly humming along to the Hozier song piped through the sound system.

We schedule “moments” in our calendars alongside doctors’ appointments and client meetings, turning them into classes that require special — albeit comfy — clothes and biodegradable water bottles.

We hollow out the minutes around the moments, genuflect to their grandeur and decorate them with prideful altars of check-in recognition.

But what if we thought of them differently?

What if we removed the preciousness of moments?

What if we simply valued every single moment as a miraculous whole, AS IS, without need for pomp and ceremony?

We humans are curious, fragile and industrious creatures. We have the power to shift our perspective of reality at any moment, in every moment.

We have the power to infuse NOW with meaning, with appreciation, with life. Even when our now is caught up in staring at Facebook. Or a car’s brake lights . Or spam — digital or emotional.

You don’t need to stop what you’re doing if the sun has died and this is your last eight minutes.

You are a perceptive creature.

Activate your senses.

Let yourself live in the details of your reality, and their beauty.

Remember, even decay is gorgeous.

And eight minutes can be a long time.

with pleasure,

Emily Lewis




p.s. If you want to dive deeper into details, be the first to get them about my upcoming course, “Living In Detail.” Click on the image below to express your interest now!

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