As a busy eye surgeon, a devoted mom to two mischievous one-year-old rescues(thanks to my biological daughter)and someone determined to squeeze in a workout alongside meditation and journaling—all before starting the day—I’m usually up and running by 5:00 a.m.

But this morning, the first day of the last month of 2024,something changed. …

I went to the terrace as usual to scatter food for the birds. Their excited chirping, a symphony of tiny voices, filled the air as they waited. It was then that I decided to pause. I set down the bowl and allowed myself a rare moment to simply be. To sit, inhale deeply, and absorb the beauty around me.

Of course, my ever-active, FOMO-driven brain protested almost immediately: Suvi, your phone isn’t with you! What if…

Before the thoughts could spiral, a calmer, saner part of me intervened, silencing the noise with a firm: “Shut up and sit down.”

So, I sat.

As I let myself relax, the cool breeze brushed my skin, its crispness a stark reminder of how much colder it had become since the last time I did this—when was that? May? Has it really been that long?

Months had flown by in a blur of routines and responsibilities, and I hadn’t even noticed.

With my hands wrapped around a cup of perfectly sweet ginger chai—my indulgence for a Sunday morning—I listened intently. A new bird’s call caught my attention. Its melody, unfamiliar yet soothing, blended seamlessly with the rustling leaves and distant hum of life awakening.

I realized then how absent-minded I had become. Or perhaps, how absent-minded we all are. Moments like this—watching a sunrise, feeling the breeze, hearing the first notes of a bird’s song—are gifts we assume will always be there. But they aren’t. Every sunrise missed is a moment of life quietly slipping past, unnoticed.

I know it’s impossible to pause like this every day. Even for me, it feels like a luxury. But maybe, just maybe, we can make space now and then to soak in these perfect moments—to let life unfold in its simplest, purest form.

As I took the last sip of my chai, I thought about how we often chase perfection. We perfect our work, our routines, even our morning tea. But savoring a moment like this—a sunrise, a quiet Sunday morning—requires no perfection.

All it takes is a pause.

And I promised myself: every Sunday, I’ll take a little time for the world around me. For myself. Because, in the pursuit of perfection, we risk missing what truly matters—the present moment, the life happening right now.