Maybe It's Now?
· Being
What if the good old days aren't behind you, but unfolding in the wonderfully ordinary moments of today?
What if the good old days aren't behind you, but unfolding in the wonderfully ordinary moments of today?
I'm a huge fan of The Office. I've watched the series more times than I'd like to admit. And yet, even now, there are scenes that make me so uncomfortable I have to pause the episode, walk into the kitchen, question every life decision Michael Scott has ever made, and then come back a few minutes later.
That's how brilliantly awkward the show is. But for all the laughs, The Office also delivered one of my favorite lines from any television show about life. It comes in the series finale when Andy Bernard says:
[quote:I wish there was a way to know you're in the good old days before you've actually left them. — Andy Bernard]
Every time I hear it, I write it down. And finally I'm writing about it (so I don't forget of course). Underneath the comedy is one of the most honest observations about being human.
How many times have you looked back on a season of life and thought... "I didn't know how good I had it."
Not because everything was perfect. But because everything was together.
We Think the Good Old Days Are Behind Us
Ask almost anyone about the "good old days," and they'll point backward. Childhood. College. The early years of marriage. When the kids were little. That first job. The neighborhood they used to live in. It's almost as if we've collectively agreed that the best parts of life are always somewhere in the past.
But what if we're wrong? What if the good old days aren't something we lost? What if they're something we're living right now... and we're simply too distracted to notice?
The Beautiful Trap of Ordinary Life
The strange thing about the good old days is that they almost never feel extraordinary while they're happening. They're disguised as ordinary Tuesdays. They're car rides to practice. Saturday mornings in sweatpants. Family dinners where someone spills the milk. Coffee with a friend. A quick conversation with a coworker. The sound of everyone being home. At the time, they don't feel memorable.
They just feel... normal.
Until one day they're gone. I think that's why nostalgia catches us off guard. It doesn't usually arrive because we miss the spectacular moments. It arrives because we miss the ordinary ones.
Science Says We're Wired This Way
There's actually a reason for this. Psychologists call it hedonic adaptation. It's the brain's tendency to quickly get used to the good things in our lives. The new house becomes just the house. The dream job becomes... work. Good health becomes something we expect instead of appreciate. Even the people we love most can become part of the background simply because they're always there.
Our brains normalize blessings with incredible efficiency. It's one of the reasons gratitude takes intention. Because familiarity makes it easy to stop seeing what's right in front of us.
The Secret Is Learning to Savor
One of my favorite ideas from positive psychology is something called savoring. Researcher Fred Bryant has spent years studying why some people seem to experience more joy than others.
His conclusion is refreshingly simple. The happiest people aren't necessarily the ones with the best lives. They're often the ones who notice their lives. They slow down. They pay attention. They linger. They allow themselves to fully experience a moment before racing to the next one.
I love that.
Because savoring isn't about taking extravagant vacations or waiting for milestones. It's noticing your daughter laughing from the next room. It's sitting on the back porch five minutes longer than you planned. It's looking around the dinner table and thinking, "I hope I never forget this."
We've Been Trying to Tell Ourselves This Forever
This isn't a new idea. Joni Mitchell sang, "You don't know what you've got till it's gone."
Every generation has its own version of that lyric. Every family has stories that begin with, "Remember when..." Every one of us has moments we'd love to revisit for just a few minutes. Not to change anything. Just to sit in them again.
I Catch Myself Doing This
Sometimes I think about our house when all four of our kids lived at home. It was loud. Someone was always hungry. There were backpacks, burps, farts, shoes (smelly shoes during junior high that would literately make you gag), sports schedules, forgotten homework, and enough snacks disappearing from the pantry to qualify as a minor mystery.
At the time? It felt busy. Sometimes exhausting.
Today?
I'd love one more ordinary Tuesday. Those years were not perfect but they were ours. That's the thing about memories. The ones that matter most usually aren't the biggest. They're the ones that quietly became part of who we are.
Being HumanKind Means Paying Attention
I don't think Being HumanKind is just about how we treat other people. It's also about how we experience our own lives. Are we paying attention? Are we noticing the people around us? Are we present enough to recognize that today's inconvenience might become tomorrow's treasured memory?
Kindness begins with attention.
To the people we love. To the conversations we're having. To the season we're living. Because attention is one of the greatest gifts we can give another person. And it's one of the greatest gifts we can give ourselves.
One Last Thought
Of course, the only way to end a post that starts with The Office is with another great philosopher... Ferris Bueller.
He said:
[quote:Life moves pretty fast. If you don't stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it. — Ferris Bueller]
He was right. Maybe the good old days aren't behind us. Maybe they're sitting across the dinner table tonight. Maybe they're the text from a friend you haven't answered yet. Maybe they're the laughter coming from the next room. Maybe they're this wonderfully ordinary season you're tempted to rush through. One day, you'll wish you could step back into today.
So don't wait until it's a memory to appreciate it. Look around. You might already be living the good old days.