We count the minutes, the hours, the days, the weeks, the years. We count dollars, cents, and credit card balances. We count the number of miles we run or bike, the steps we climb, or the laps we swim. We count calories, carbs, fat grams and the number of pounds we gain or lose. We count. And we count some more.
There are things in life we can’t count. We can’t quantify laughter or tears or the quality of our relationships. We reckon birthdays but we cannot count life. We tally up anniversaries but we cannot count the love we give and we receive. We can enumerate the number of college degrees we earn but we cannot count what we have learned along the way. We can measure the spectrum of wavelengths but we cannot count the number of colors that streak across the sky when we see a sunset or the aurora borealis.
What counts? So simple to say or to to describe or to explain . . . but it’s sometimes so tricky to keep my perspective. Real counting is an intuitive nudge. We know when something is countable when we feel that let-the-bell-toll moment. When life comes together into one brilliant episode of Hugeness.
These moments fill us full with something that we can neither count nor define. Like a bell tolling, the ringing has a roundness that reverberates through us and out into the vastness of the Universe. I consider myself lucky to have experienced such moments. They remind me to stop counting stuff and to start counting — to start making a difference — as a human being
Life. Memories. Experiences. Hugs. Encouragement. True love. Music. Integrity. Contributing. Growing. So many things that I cannot count. So many.