This article first appeared on the Weekly Bujo Newsletter.

Vienna, Austria

I’ve always known my father to be a teacher and an author, but it turns out he’s also an avid list maker. His lists, however, are very different from my own.

Whereas most of my lists focus on the present or the future, his lists are focused on the past on the life he has lived. One of his favorite lists is what he calls his “holy days” list. These holy days have nothing to do with religion, but to him, they are sacred.

To my father, Holy Days are the ones that provide irrefutable evidence of just how good life can get. Maybe it was the first date with a wonderful new partner, or the day you won big, that spring day after a favorable diagnosis, or a simple sleepy day where all was deeply good.

I think there's tremendous value in taking the time to really think about the truly noteworthy days that remind us that, no matter how hard things get, these kind of days do exist. It’s helpful for two reasons.

First, when faced with great uncertainty, especially during challenging times, they can act as both refuge and reminder: though we may have earned some of these days, many we did not earn. They were simply gifted to us out of the blue.

Second, though these days are magical, they consist of conditions and qualities that are not mysterious at all. Common ones include where you were, who was there, and what you were doing. Though we can’t recreate these days (nor should we try), we can explore the elements of what made these days so magical.

There are many wonderful meals one can cook by understanding the basic ingredients of their favorite recipe.

When I tried this out for myself I found it hard to remember entire days that were holy, but I did find holy moments. Many of them involved the magic hour before my family went to bed. We’d sit in my father’s home office— a room filled with books, stories, and memories— and just chat. Each conversation was different from the next. Most, forgettable. Many were some of the happiest moments with my family.

None of those moments will ever return, and we’ve all become very different people over the decades. For now though, it’s within my power to create the conditions for those conversations to keep happening, and they do.

Some go nowhere, while others lead to new revelations (like my father bringing his English class to a lecture  given by Viktor Frankl, who then spent another hour with just his class answering questions! Or that my tiny mother went to a Sisters of Mercy concert, by herself! Mom?!)

The trick is to just put the pieces in play without expectation. No, nothing will ever happen again, but something new will always happen. My invitation for you this week is to create your own list of holy days to measure your own quality of time. Have fun!