Too much lives in a moment ✨
Reflections on words by Andrea Gibson
and the next day I sharpened a tiny ax
so I could split the seconds myself.
Too much lives in a moment
to not feed it to the fire in the heart, slow.
- Andrea Gibson, from the poem Acceptance Speech After Setting the World Record in Goosebumps, published in You Better Be Lightning
I was one poem in, and already their words had cracked me wide open.
A few months ago, I was introduced to the work of poet and spoken word artist Andrea Gibson through a podcast episode that had me weeping as I walked. They chose a poem to read at the end, one titled Tincture. It’s about imagining how when a human dies, the soul misses the body. I stopped walking in order to take it all in.
It took a while for me to get my hands on one of Gibson’s books, but I finally ordered one and it arrived last week. And that’s where this opening quote comes in. The words actually took my breath away. I stopped on those stanzas, absorbed. The quote is split over two pages, so I flipped back and forth, trying to wrap my mind around the significance of what Gibson had written.
Where it struck me deeply was in that part of me, let’s call it the Knowing, that is so overwhelmingly aware of the fleeting nature of these moments we experience. It is atomic in nature, this idea that so much can be crammed into even a second of our time on this planet. I’ve noticed how much I hide this part of myself from the world. I am a well of awareness, but I hold back in expressing it. Perhaps it’s because I don’t see many others opening this vault for the world to see. I don’t often encounter people who feel as deeply as I do; then, of course, maybe they are doing exactly what I am: hiding, or at least downplaying, what’s really going on. Others, it would seem, simply aren’t so connected to their emotions.
Encountering Gibson’s work felt like encountering, or coming to terms, with this part of myself I often keep tucked away. Recently I’ve been reflecting on how I wasn’t always like this. A turning point for me was letting go of certain beliefs that dictated there is always an answer and that Someone is always in control. In my upbringing, there was also an emphasis on the Afterlife, which made the Current Life seem less magical despite its finiteness. But, with time, I came to see certain moments for what they are: wonders that are enormous in their significance, yet packed into the tick of a clock. With time, I began to witness these moments more often. My system is now primed for them.
It’s been so primed that now I feel the pangs of regret when I can’t appreciate a moment for what it is. This past month I’ve been dealing with curveballs and what people call “adulting” and I think what’s frustrated me the most beyond the hassle of those responsibilities is how they’ve taken away from the moments I want to be paying attention to. I see, for instance, my kids growing up and evolving and I want to witness it all while they are still here, living under my roof. But, enter: calls to insurance companies, booking appointments, paying bills, paperwork, grocery lists.
I think this is where Gibson’s poem struck a chord for me. “Too much lives in the moment,“ they say. I would add that not all minutes can be “moments,” either. They wouldn’t be significant if they happened all the time. It’s simply not practical with the way our society works. But there are more moments available if we are willing to look. (As Gibson writes, “Tore the caution tape off my life and let everything touch it.”)
What I need to do is sharpen a tiny ax. Or “axe,” as we spell it up here.
So often, no matter how sensitive I am or how deeply I feel things, I’m still rushing. But when those moments arise — the big, beautiful, heart-bursting, heart-breaking, identity-shifting, pivotal moments — I want to be ready to split the seconds.
To feed them to my heart slowly. To be proud of how I feel them.
To feel the burn cleansing my spirit until the next moment comes along.
Meghan J. Ward is an outdoor, travel and adventure writer based in Banff, Canada, a Fellow of the Royal Canadian Geographical Society, and the author of Lights to Guide Me Home. Meghan has written several books, as well as produced content for films, anthologies, blogs and some of North America’s top outdoor, fitness and adventure publications.
What’s caught my attention lately… ✨
If you haven’t figured it out yet, my life has forever been made better by the work of Andrea Gibson. They actually have a publication here on Substack called
.
Check these out too… 🙌
Lights to Guide Me Home: A Journey Off the Beaten Track in Life, Love, Adventure and Parenting - my memoir (reviews welcome on Amazon and Goodreads)
The Wonders That I Find - my children’s book
My Email Newsletter - updates about my books, projects, and 1:1 coaching
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I am an eight-generation Canadian and a descendent of British, Scottish and German settlers living, working, and recreating outdoors in Treaty 7 Territory — the homelands and gathering place for the Niitsitapi from the Blackfoot Confederacy, including the Siksika, Kainai, and Piikani First Nations; the Îyârhe Nakoda of the Chiniki, Bearspaw, and Goodstoney First Nations; the Tsuut’ina First Nation; the Métis Nation of Alberta, Region III and many others. I am doing my utmost, both personally and professionally, to deepen my understanding of the history of Indigenous peoples and the impacts of colonialism — past and present.
Wow, profound indeed !
I live in that heart cracked open, who-can-I-share-this-with? sensation too. It's a blessing to be seen by just one person in these challenging times, and I also am finding that as I age and stay open, the people who can meet me are coming. The thing is, they're not geographically in the same place. Our ancestors might have had this experience, but mine is more diverse, more lands and influences physically distant. Thanks goodness for people like Andrea who can draw us together. I think artists have this capacity. We are growing it together. Much love my friend.