“If you are depressed, you are living in the past. If you are anxious, you are living in the future. But, if you are at peace, you are living in the present.” Lao Tzu
The Present Moment
If I try to, I cannot reach back into all my yesterdays and reclaim them. And, even if I could, all that I would achieve is a reconstruction of days as perfect past moments. So I cannot reach back and hold any moment as it was. Besides I don't want to, the past is the past and best left as formative memory for better or worse.
The future eludes me in smoke and mirrors, the pathway is unclear, no plan is foolproof. Besides, if I could see even just a little ahead I would be adjusting my approach towards the perfect experience.
The most abiding feeling I have is of the fleeting present moment. That moment, the blinking of an eye, the moment between the inward and outward breath, which passes so quickly. These moments come and go and I have learned to treasure them before they slip into yesterday. But, to be in the present moment, I have to be present.
“Such silence has an actual sound, the sound of disappearance.” Suzanne Finnamore
The mist kissed the water tenderly
and held me prisoner in the moment
that must never be squandered,
my breathing as fragile as the air,
waiting for an ending that will not come,
pulled into the juncture of realms,
lost in worlds where no thief resides
save that of my own inattention,
but I turn from that page,
even from the tempting words,
here I want for nothing.
Bjorn at dVerse is hosting poetics and has invited us to write about solitude while trying to avoid using the word itself.
Photo: Somewhere between Merredin and Menzies. The bush is my best solitude.
“The more ways we have to connect, the more many of us seem desperate to unplug.”
There Are Moments
I gather myself in this place
where the quiet examines me,
knowing that I yearn for it
as a lover yearns for completion,
even so, I avert myself at times
from the uncomfortable rawness of
the self intimacy of such knowing,
preferring to skirt the edges
below the mask so worn,
and yet, there are moments,
fleeting, like the pause of a breath,
within which an elusive thought
awakens my soul.
“God is not found in the soul by adding anything but by a process of subtraction.” Meister Eckhart
To That Place Again
How many valleys and ravines have been
that perfect sense of standing on the edge
seeking subtraction by addition,
rather than simply surrendering
the me of me for the real me,
unravelling the complexity
of my false true self,
offering substitutes two sizes down,
placating the demons of acceptance,
rummaging the garbage of life
for hollow platitudes,
a reductio ad absurdum
that returns me unfulfilled
to that place again
of self emptying towards