Every Second Counts

What The Bear taught me about embracing every moment as it comes

My husband and I just discovered the show The Bear about fictional chef Carmy Berzatto. Some episodes pound your brain with the chaos of a kitchen in meltdown, while others quietly follow a character through a culinary growth experience. We binge-watched all three seasons in a few days.

I noticed in several episodes a bright blue sign with white letters: “Every second counts.” It hangs on the wall in different restaurants, typically just below a digital clock. The first few times I saw it, I associated it with the mad pace of perfecting food and service in a high-end restaurant. A constant reminder of the need to do, go, move, because the clock is ticking – or digitally counting down in this case.

My husband worked in food service many years ago and said the sign reminded him of something they used to say, “If you have time to lean, you have time to clean.” Exactly. Waste no moment dallying because every second counts!

But then we saw season 2, episode 7: “Forks” and learned the phrase came from journal entries made by the father of one of Carmy’s mentors, Chef Terry. She explains how each entry captured tiny details of her father’s life moments, from the trivial to the poignant. And each one ended with the phrase, “Every second counts.”

Suddenly, the white words on the blue sign transformed from an urgent directive to a deeper message about our purpose in life. It wasn’t about doing more. It was about making more out of each moment, about being present for and appreciating every finite detail of every second as they unfold in all their eager, frustrating, messy, unpredictable glory.

I dwell often in my first interpretation of the sign. Never enough time to do everything I want or need. I fly through the day’s increments focused on what’s next or what should be different or what more I can accomplish. Maximizing the moment – it has its place. I won’t deny the role efficiency can play, but the second interpretation sings to me of Presence. The power of embracing whatever moment God puts before me as it is and not as I wish it were.

My family and I were fortunate to spend a few weeks in the mountains this summer, starting with the wedding of our good friends in Crested Butte, Colorado. We’ve communed with the forests, lakes, rivers, and rocky trails all around us. Thinking about the blue sign, I see our time here with a fresh perspective. So many seconds that counted – some cherished, some dreaded – but most, honestly, were missed opportunities for me to embrace in the moment.

Like the second I blanked on “La Vie En Rose” that I was supposed to sing for our friend’s bridal procession. The black void in my head where the lyrics used to be and the graceless announcement I made to my accompanying guitarist that I’d forgotten the words – which all 60 or so wedding guests of course heard thanks to the microphone in my hand. My mounting panic until the bride laughingly backed up and restarted, giving me another chance to serenade her walk down the aisle.  

Or a couple of weeks later, when I learned our longtime nanny, Suly, lost her fight with ALS. The moment weighed down with knowing we would never see her smile or hear her deep rolling laugh again. The shame in my heart that I had not made time to visit her before we left town for the summer, the sharp bite of regret that I had not done more for her in the years since she got sick, the grief of losing such a loving light in the world. All those painful seconds counted.

Just as much as the moment I reached the top of a canyon rock wall, my first ever outdoor climb. The warm air drying my sweat, the thrill of perching so high on the edge of a mountain, the slight sting of the knee I’d scraped on the way up, the inconceivably small hand and footholds my fingers and toes clung to, and the deep satisfaction I found in my body’s strength and flexibility.

What about the moment my husband and I got into a fight on our one romantic night out in weeks? The churning in my stomach over the conflict, the sudden tastelessness of the chocolate dessert, the injustice and hurt of the words exchanged, my simultaneous compulsion and helplessness to “fix” the situation.

Or later, the instant I realized my petty, passive aggressive fantasies of how I could act toward him post-fight would directly oppose the kind of person I am and strive to be. The very next second when I felt the unclenching in my heart by telling myself to choose a different, more loving mindset.

And of course, the moment we reached the river rocks below a breathtaking mountain waterfall, the roar of the water wall tumbling down above us, the mist refreshing our hot faces after the strenuous climb, the sweet taste of the cold water, the shrieks and laughter of my husband and boys running through the icy spray.

I see these details now as I write about them. I know I experienced them when they happened, but was I actually present for them? Each moment pulsed uniquely with joy or frustration, peace or pain. Every second counted, sure, but I spent more time judging the moments than recognizing this truth.

I recently read a Deepak Chopra article where he advises us to “Commit to never complaining, criticizing, or playing the victim” as the first of six actions to take to cultivate emotional intelligence. He wasn’t writing about The Bear or the “Forks” episode, but Chopra’s advice for emotional intelligence in the moment instantly propelled me to that blue sign and its edict for a richer, more connected life.

When I make a point to not complain, criticize, play the victim, or any of the other mental gymnastics I do when things “happen,” I strengthen my ability to embrace the fullness of every moment. That is the purpose of living, wringing every juicy drop out of our experiences. Whether the seconds swell with meaning or shake with suffering, they all count.

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