These days, I mainly juggle medical appointments and healthcare practices, but I also have to fit in work (writing my column), family, some social commitments, and my personal passions of music, storytelling and sewing. (Although recently I’ve realized I will probably have to let one of those go for a while.) Most of all, I’m supposed to rest though I often feel like I’m living in fast forward.

Even in the best situation, I feel that I’m racing against an invisible stopwatch, trying to cram as much as I can each and every day. And then life throws yet another curveball (it’s not enough to have cancer), ex: I’m allergic to chemo. That’s okay. There are other avenues to explore. 

There’s a beauty to a little spare time. It may seem like an oxymoron, but it’s during these moments of brevity that I’ve been discovering some of life’s most profound lessons. It’s when I’m forced to slow down, to strip away the excess that I truly appreciate the essence of what matters most. I can’t do everything anymore. I now have extreme priorities.

Of late, I’ve enjoyed surprise visits from old friends and have found that the intensity of a short visit can rival years of superficial interactions. There’s something magical about the way time compresses, allowing us to dive deep into meaningful conversations and reconnect on a soulful level.

And what about those impromptu walks over the bridge and along the river road? When I encounter a rare break in the day, I’m bound to take a walk and soak in every detail the Delaware River Valley has to offer. The rustling autumn leaves in all their spectacular colors, the glistening waves, and the birdsong become more vivid, more alive, because my senses are on high alert. I no longer take these brief respites for granted. I savor every moment as if it were a page torn from a storybook.

These days, I’m not necessarily more resourceful or efficient. Where I used to be a master of multitasking (the hare, so to speak) accomplishing tasks in record time, I’m now the turtle murmuring “slow and steady wins the race.” It’s mostly because of my demanding health regimen. I won’t complain. At least, I’m still here. And yet, I still find it hard to set aside the trivial distractions that jockey for my attention like talking Dachshunds on FB. 

The combination of recovering and the scarcity of time reminds me of the importance of cherishing the people I hold dear. “I love you” was not an expression bandied about during my childhood and so I am learning to say that more now. One thing cancer has given me is a chance to make every moment count. 

Of course, it’s crucial to strike a balance. I can no longer live in a constant state of urgency. Now when little time is thrust upon me, which is just about every day, I embrace it with open arms. It’s an opportunity to recalibrate my priorities, to infuse my life with purpose, and to remember that every second is a gift; a chance to rediscover the magic of simplicity, the power of connection, and the beauty of the present moment. While “so little time” rings true, the expression that follows “so much to do” will have to go by the wayside for now.

I’m not very good at it, but I do try and make the most of every tick of the clock, whether it’s abundant or scarce. Time, after all, is a most precious commodity. Silly as it may seem, every day I now focus more on my breath, try to appreciate the little things, and most of all remember that life’s most profound moments often come in the form of fleeting seconds.

RAMONA JAN is the Founder and Director of Yarnslingers, a storytelling group that tells tales both fantastic and true. She is also the roving historian for Callicoon, NY and is often seen giving tours around town. You can email her at callicoonwalkingtours@gmail.com.