Turn ordinary moments into memorable ones with the ‘Last Time’ technique
Or, a story about an elderly man and a mountain
I’d just dug into the amazing meal my mother-in-law had prepared when I heard something that made it hard to take another bite.
Every Tuesday, my father-in-law Lluis goes hiking with his buddies. It’s his time. The mountains are his place. He normally doesn’t return till late. However, while we were eating, we heard the front door open and Lluis let out a sigh before joining us in the kitchen.
“What’s wrong?” my mother-in-law asked in a concerned voice. “Are you okay? Did you hurt yourself?”
“I’m fine, really,” Lluis replied after sitting down to take off his boots. “I must’ve made that climb 100 times before. But I think it’s outgrown me. Today, I had to say goodbye to my favorite mountain.”
I wanted to say something. We all did. But what do you say to someone who just realized they can no longer do something they love? Is there a phrase for that? Are there words?
I looked at my wife. She looked back at me. A single tear ran down her left cheek. I thought for sure we’d spend the rest of the evening in quiet contemplation. But after Lluis had a couple of bites to eat and a few sips of wine, he began to speak.
He told us about how when the fog lifted he could see all the way to the sea.
He told us about the jokes he and his buddies shared.
He told us about how the light changed colors at every turn.
In short, instead of seeing it as a sad event, the realization that this would be the last time he’d climb that mountain brought the experience into laser-sharp focus.
Five years later, if you asked him to retrace his route, even at the age of 91, he could tell you a story about every single step.
What if this is the last time?
I think about Lluis’s experience and this question a lot. I tend to worry too much about what’s ahead of me instead of giving my attention to what’s directly in front of me.
For Lluis, this was a defining moment in his life. He had to accept the fact his body could no longer do what his mind wanted it to do. But instead of allowing this thought to bring him down, after realizing it was the last time he’d climb up his favorite mountain, he chose to squeeze every last drop out of the experience.
Imagine how your life would be different if you approached not only big events with this mindset but also the small everyday things we often take for granted.
If you knew it was going to be the last time you spoke to a loved one or even a stranger, would you scroll through Instagram while talking to them or would you give them your complete and undivided attention?
If you knew it was going to be the last time you wrote an article, would you just go through the motions or would you put more care into your work?
If you knew it was going to be the last time you gave your kid a bath before they could do it on their own, would you sit on the sidelines or would you get in and create the greatest bubble bath the world has ever seen?
Envisioning this will be the last time I do something has not only helped me to bring more focus to what’s directly in front of me. But the reminder also settles my breathing when my kids do something that makes my blood beat red as I know they won’t be around the house to annoy me forever.
Give it a try for yourself. The next time you feel yourself either going through the motions or dreading having to do something, imagine it’s the last time you’ll ever get a chance to do it.
Pretend you have to say goodbye.
Remind yourself everything is temporary.
This thought may sound depressing. But it can also be extremely liberating. It serves as a reminder that life was meant to be lived in the present.
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Thank you for reading.
My very best to you and yours.
—Michael
For me this is the further demonstration of the power of storytelling. Lluis will endure as a leader because of your skill with immortalizing moments of human experience that deserve to live on. Being a storyteller who notices such moments, captures them, preserves them, and passes them along is a high art and an essential service to our humanity. Thank you for continuing to serve and refine this gift you have Michael.
Michael, thank you for centering me in my awareness, and having me realize that each moment is a “last time.”
I realized that your father-in-law had a last time physically climbing the mountain, but mentally, if we so choose, there is no last time when we choose to squeeze those drops out of our experience.
“But instead of allowing this thought to bring him down, after realizing it was the last time he’d climb up his favorite mountain, he chose to squeeze every last drop out of the experience.”
My father died of Leukemia 2 years ago, and yet some of THE most fabulous conversations and experiences I’ve had with him, have taken place since then inside my heart. I’m squeezing away. 😊