Archives for posts with tag: in the moment

2020 began as very ordinary, which is fine. I worked on New Year’s Eve and didn’t take any days off. I began the day by leaving home early. Destination: Target. I had a gift card and wanted to see if I could use it. It was the third or fourth time within the past few weeks that I would find myself looking at food processors. Did I really need one? If I do buy this, how often will I realistically use it? Which one? This one gets mediocre reviews. That one feels cheaply made. And on and on I went. I left the store without a food processor.

Generally, I feel that I am a spiritual person and that I have intention on a daily basis; however, lately, more so than usual, I am feeling more and more drawn toward scripture and Eastern wisdom, and any other traditions that speak to me through the fiction that I read or movies that I watch. It’s possible that this resurgence in me is a result of the continuous negativity in the world. I know that the news usually has some tragedy to report, but it just seems like it’s becoming more brutal, more often. It could be the aging process, within myself (although, technically, I’m not at the high yet), and my in-laws.

I suppose as I journey along and keep glancing back, wondering–as I know many do, where the heck did all the time go. How did life start going so fast. Just yesterday, I was a small child, wanting so much to grow up–to be an adult, to do grown up things. And now here I am, almost at the half-way point–If we use 100 as the full measure.

Here I am at the library–my sanctuary. I always find myself here when I need to take a break, be present, search the shelves for some inspiration and/or guidance. Today, I held back a little. I always like to scan the new arrivals shelf and that’s where I found, Eating the Sun: small musings on a vast universe and Bathed in Prayer: Father Tim’s Prayers, Sermons, and Reflections from the Mitford Series. On the books for sale shelf, I selected Zen Keys.

A nice group of books to take home, get cozy, and settle in with.

The heater hums, or rather it rattles–
yet it brings a sense of…something–then it stops;
the sounds of the morning push through,
the thump of the newspaper,
the clank of working trucks.
my mind buzzing around.
I take a moment to soak in the quiet,
breathing in and out…longer next time.
one breath at a time, moment by moment.
The time has come, the day is calling.

With hot chocolate in hand, I start the engine, gaze at the thick fog before me. Audio book streams in the background as my attention follows a group of seagulls circling above. At that moment, I’m taken to the ocean. One seagull continues to circle and I can see the grace and strength of his wings as the audio book becomes mere sound, my attention elsewhere, following the joy of the seagull in flight. I reach for my phone; the seagull makes one last pass, then departs, leaving me with a feeling of fullness and appreciation for the moment.

This morning, I knew that when I left the house, I would be stopping at the coffee shop before work. I knew I would attempt to write something on my blog, and I knew that there was a book that I wanted to share before so much time went by, that the thought fell away. 

At this particular coffee shop, there is a waterfall in the background, trees, and large cement structures that hold bright pink and white flowers and other textured shrubbery. Usually, if I stop for coffee, it’s in and out, then off to work. It feels like my little piece of Zen–the soothing sound of the water swooshing out, bees buzzing here and there, and the canopy of trees that makes me feel like I’m in a tree house–these beauties get my day going in a peaceful direction.

This morning, as I sat at the table, before I opened my iPad, I stretched to the left to help alleviate some muscle stiffness and what did I spy, but a heart shape on one of the red bricks. This brought a great smile to my being; and it felt like that feeling you get when you feel like the Universe is speaking to you–as though the Universe is smiling or tickling your funny bone. Here I was sharing a heart yesterday, a heart that I had taken a photo of a long while ago; and here, this morning, another heart appears in the present moment. Such a wonderful feeling.

The book that I’d like to share that is written for young readers and the young at heart is The Poet’s Dog by Patricia MacLachlan. I was lucky enough to come across this when my mother-in-law came across it in one of her book catalogs. She passed it along to me and said how much she loved it. I happily accepted it and put it on a nearby shelf to be read when I felt in the mood. It’s a very short story that can easily be read in a short sitting. I chose to read half in July and was drawn to finish it recently. I was taken with its beauty, with the love on those pages. It’s a special book to be read and shared. For anyone that loves dog’s, children, poetry–they will especially appreciate this book.  

Music blows by; wind sounds in my ears. Trees invite an instant tranquility and grounding that is inexplicable–take the trees away, take the patches of grass, the white umbrellas, tables, and chairs; leave only concrete and the scape feels far different. 

While Hubby is inside one of the stores, I take in the different people–there a couple holding hands; there two women walking their bikes, one with a basket for her obedient Shih Tzu. Cute babies, little girls in their summer dresses. 

I feel at peace in this moment. Hubby nearby, the trees, a napkin to catch my thoughts. 

It’s ironic that I’m reading more since I’ve been taking classes to complete the A.A. in accounting. Better late, than never. Now that our living situation is different, after work I go to the library almost everyday to study. Usually I only take one class per quarter because it’s all that I have the energy or focus for; however, I’m getting close and have decided that I will take two courses next quarter begins. Summer session is almost done and I finally get a small break before the Fall quarter. At this point, I feel like I’m doing this A.A. degree more for myself than anything. I’m viewing it as a small attempt to provide a cushion if I should find myself somewhere else, and it’s also a challenge that I can afford to take-and must take.

I remember blowing on dandelions when I was a kid; I don’t remember thinking of them as clocks. Today, my daily calendar has a close up photo of a bunch of dandelions with the caption, “Dandelion clocks await a child’s puff of breath.” Today this is really special to me because, amongst other books and audios, I’m listening to Ray Bradbury’s Fahrenheit 451 and Bradbury Stories: 100 of His Most Celebrated Tales. I’m also wanting to revisit The Illustrated Man.

When I see the dandelions this morning, I see Ray Bradbury. I see Clarisse holding the dandelion up to Montag’s chin. And I remember that when I was in a writer’s group for a very brief moment, one of the writers told me that I should read Dandelion Wine after having read one of my snippets.

I don’t have a strong tie to my own childhood and the dandelion, but after returning to Bradbury, and the dandelion that turns up in his other stories, I feel a real resonance and connection to him. So now when I see dandelions, I see him and I’m reminded of childhood-the childhood that I know he speaks about but haven’t yet read in Dandelion Wine. I think of what a remarkable person that I imagine he was, and of course, a great writer and storyteller. I appreciate how open he is about sharing where the seeds of his stories began.

I knew that if I didn’t come to the page, in this moment, that this moment would fly away just as the seeds of a dandelion, and that sometimes you just have to stop what you’re doing and GO. To be in the moment, lest it fly away, blow into the wind.

Horns boom, trumpets tune,
chattering voices fill the air, while drumsticks tap,
pom poms swish, a
cacophony-
the last days of summer,
highlighted by a twilight parade.

White egret high in the twilight sky.
Wings wave against the brisk air.
With each wave of those great wings,
the cold chill inside yields,
fills me with warmth. I keep my gaze
on the twilight sky and this graceful creature,
as they fade into the distance.

Child’s gaze–
Stopped
by the merry go round music.
When the music stops.
He is back.

Dew drops glisten on tufts of grass.
Tiny clear jewels, they sparkle and glisten.
Birch trees canopy the surrounding grass,
familiar ghosts upon this land.
Water gurgles from the fountain.
Cars whizz by. A blue bird rests upon a branch,
he flies away.
A small slice of solace to this noisy day.