There are moments in life that feel extraordinary—full, vibrant, alive.
For many of us in the Christian tradition, Easter is one of those moments. The days leading up to it are filled with meaning: Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, the quiet in-between, and then the celebration of resurrection. There is energy, community, depth, and beauty. These are what we might call “feast” moments.
But then… we return.
Return to our daily routines.
Return to our work.
Return to what we might call ordinary life.
And sometimes, if we’re honest, there can be a kind of letdown.
Why doesn’t every moment feel like that?
But maybe that question invites a deeper one:
Is ordinary really something less?
The truth is, most of our lives are lived in what we call ordinary time. Not the peaks, not the valleys—but the steady unfolding of everyday moments. And what if these moments are not lesser… but simply quieter invitations?
An invitation to show up.
Not just for the big events—the celebrations, the milestones, the moments that gather attention—but for the small ones. The conversations. The quiet mornings. The changing light through the window. The subtle shift of seasons that happens right before our eyes, often unnoticed.
So much of life is happening while we are somewhere else in our minds.
Our bodies are present, but our attention is not.
And so the practice becomes simple, though not easy:
returning to the moment we are in.
This is why contemplative practices matter. Whether through meditation, silence, breath, or prayer, we are learning—not to escape life—but to enter it more fully.
To notice what is arising in us.
To recognize when we’ve wandered.
And gently, without judgment, to return.
Again and again, return.
Because if we don’t notice what’s arising, we get carried along by it. We board the train of thought or worry or distraction and travel far before we even realize we’ve left the present moment.
But we can come back.
Right here.
Right now.
Take a breath.
Notice where you are.
Release what is pulling you away.
And return.
The extraordinary moments will come. They always do.
But so will the ordinary ones—and they are far more frequent.
And perhaps, just perhaps, the sacred has been waiting for us there all along.
So today, wherever you are:
Show up.
Infinitely Precious 