The medical assistant took his blood pressure. “What was it?” I asked. “I don’t know,” he said. “They didn’t tell me.” My father was raised in the era when you did what the doctor told you, no questions asked, like most people in his generation.

This quote has been our immediate family mantra for at least the past 25 years. There are similar versions of this quote, but I was told this particular quote was from the Lakota Sioux. It’s a simple saying that’s concise, clear, and at first glance – easy. But this is one of the most powerful and difficult maxims I’ve come across.

I sit on my deck in the mountains watching my flowers: petunias, geraniums, daisies, moss rose, dianthus, salvia, marigolds, snapdragons, begonias, pansies, and a number of dainty Colorado blossoms whose names I don’t know. I’ve spent hours observing their beauty and patterns of behavior. I’ve learned a lot about life, and myself, from being with my flowers. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Recalling the past, we can become immobilized by nostalgia and guilt or be propelled into the future with wisdom. Looking to the future, we can fear the worst or plan and hope for the best. Being in the present moment, we can become distracted by technology and worries, or seek out gratitude, joy, and meaning and ultimately, find confidence and ourselves.

Have you had times when you had no sense of direction for your life? Maybe it was all you could do just to put one foot ahead of the other…just get through another week. I would bet most everyone has gone through a few weeks, months, or maybe even years like that, and it’s not a good feeling. The feeling is depression.

I’ve read about people sleepwalking, unaware of their actions and activity, only to be told later what they did or said. I think that would be scary. Fortunately, I’ve never had that experience, but I wonder sometimes if I haven’t had some similar experiences – times when I’ve driven miles but didn’t actually recall those miles, or when I’ve been a few blocks from home but couldn’t recall if I’d actually pressed the remote to close the garage door, requiring a trip back to the house to double-check. It’s a little like sleepwalking – not being fully present in the moment, not recalling actions, not being in the ‘here and now’ with my mind in another time and place.

Is it possible to live a balanced life 24/7? I doubt it. But it is something to work toward. There’s so much talk about living a balanced life…it sounds perfect, having it all together: Just enough sleep to function optimally (but too much sleep could suggest depression); Just enough exercise to feel great (but too much exercise can cause joint stress); Just enough sun for a healthy Vitamin D level (but too much sun can cause skin cancer). And the list goes on.

In light of recent personal and global losses, I’m reflecting on what's important and valued, and how I want to spend my time. I’m thinking of this time as a reset button – this time when the world has changed due to so many losses – tragic deaths, Covid-19, a cancer diagnosis – when everything is different, when I’m different.