And then sometimes I catch myself out thinking, was it worth it, all that pain and frustration, all that “wasted time”?
So say that my life to this very point (that one there) has consisted of a billion moments (oops! a billion and one moments)…I spent a hundred million moments on childhood, and a million moments in that relationship; a thousand moments on that trip to Mexico, two million moments at that job, ten thousand moments sitting by my father’s bedside as he lay dying, a thousand moments going to the store to buy eggs, a few dozen moments brushing my teeth.
And each of those moments could be easily subdivided, into ten or a hundred micro-moments. And each micro-moment chopped up into more.
And each of those micro-moments could be a micro-micro-moment of despair, or sadness or frustration or jealousy or boredom. Or banal existence, or pure presence, or equanimity or contentment, revelation, love, bliss, ecstasy, misery. Or any combination of the above.
And suppose each fraction of a moment contains a random and mathematically perfect combination of micromoments. And each bit, including this very moment â€“ oops! i mean that one there, the one that just passed â€“ is infinitely divisible into limitless micro-moments, and is in sum total, absolutely, mathematically, perfect.
And so no moment has ever been wasted, and there are an infinite number of moments remaining. And nothing, NOTHING, was ever in vain.